Grafitti Artist After His Own Rebel Heart
by SusieCues
Summary: Ezra Bridger and Sabine Wren, a match made in the Star Wars universe? During such turbulent times of Empire and Rebellion, do these two stand a chance?
1. Chapter 1

Glaring at his reflection in the mirror, tucked away in the crawlspace, Ezra muttered all guttural, "Could scar." Fussing, he continued, "I hate scars." Gingerly, he fingered the jagged edges around the sizeable gash he'd received less than a week ago at the hands of a stroppy stormtrooper. He rolled his eyes, clenching his swollen jaw, glowering. "Right across the cheek. Any higher, might have cost me my eye." Vanity aside, he might have wound up one-eyed that day, keeping the guy who so often saved the day, Kanan, from harm's way. That pregnant girl, who had appeared to be no older than Ezra, owed the trusty Jedi her life and the life of her unborn child. "If I have to be scarred, I'd prefer it to be someplace else. Not my face…" He stared at himself harder, trying to visualize the raised, discolored flesh mar his looks. He turned away from the mirror in disgust.

"It won't be that bad."

Ezra jumped, then practically barreled into Sabine, who, caught somewhat off-guard, regarded him then with knowing eyes. Taking a few steps back, she looked him squarely in his sullen face. With her hands affixed squarely at her hips, she refrained from chiding him further. Narrowing his eyes, Ezra spat, "Yeah, right."

"No really. It won't. Give it a few months, you'll hardly be able to tell. Like it's a scratch."

It wasn't what he wanted to hear; she was patronizing him. As she often did, seeing him as just some rangy, self-centered, shortsighted kid. His pouting wasn't doing much for selling his maturity to her. Yes, he had a thing for the spunky weapons expert from Mandalore. But if Wren had an inkling of just how much, she downplayed his one-track mind every chance she got. She liked the kid, but purely in a platonic vein. At least she kept telling herself that. Ezra had a way with the Force and a rough and tumble way with charm. The kid had moxie and he used it to his advantage.

He wasn't that much younger than she. Guys from the streets always seemed older. This one had had to grow up on his own, having lost his parents early in life.

Sabine was way too young to be a 'cougar.'

"It's too deep to be just a scratch," Ezra complained sourly, not wanting her seeing him like this. She smiled at him, and his heart fluttered. He loved her, and her passion. It galled him, not being bold enough to come right out and tell her all that he felt for her. She'd probably give him several pats on his back, telling him to 'suck it up.'

Words were tumbling from her lips until she put an abrupt halt to them—"Nothing could mar that cute, handsom—" Ezra eyed her closely, keenly aware of a slew of emotions glimmering on her face. She backed away several more steps, as though he had plague, horrified, all set to turn her back on him. She had no intention of giving him any wrong ideas. Why did they usually stand a shade too close together? Suddenly, her legs were shaky; like strong bones had become jelly. Sabine sighed, the thought running through her mind why was she being such a 'borgeest?' The impulsive creatures, who lived like gaseous silhouettes on the wind, drifting through the rolling plains of Boral? After taking a deep breath, she began again, sounding as though she'd cut her tongue on her teeth. "How do you feel about graffiti?"

Ezra blinked in surprise. Here he was, a maimed man, and Sabine sounded as though being disfigured meant nothing at all. His new nickname would be Scarface. He so didn't want to be called that, not by her, not by anyone. He titled his head to the side, angling the blemish away from her. He decided to humor her. "I like yours."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Satisfaction suffused the radiance of her beautiful face. She jutted her hip at him as though in challenge. "I've got an idea." Her demeanor suggested that he follow.

"Like?" Ezra countered, without a clue what she was driving at. Not having to be told, he tagged along.

"Speeding up the healing process for your lesion while making it appear less unsightly."

"How?"

"I'll show you how. Keep following…"

"How?" he persisted, unaware that they had an unseen audience.

Zeb was holed up overhead in a storage compartment, keeping well out of sight. Chuckling, relishing all that he'd heard thus far, he muttered in amusement, "The kid's her sappy-eyed puppet. Whatever she says, he believes. Never one word of protest from him. If I were her, I'd work it to my _advantage_." Painstakingly he fought the urge to jump down and scare the Force out of the Sabine-crazy dunderhead. He decided to save the prank for another time instead. Ezra was Force-sensitive, and Kanan was training him in the ways of the Jedi, but that didn't mean he couldn't get the jump on him to take him completely by surprise. Something that would involve venting panel insulation and smelly jlole cheese. Meaningful fun like that was too hard to pass up.

Chopper too, keeping out of sight, monitored them as they passed. His soft 'clurps' were inaudible. Waiting a bit, the droid proceeded to bring up the rear, all the way to Sabine's quarters. Of all the crew, Ezra seemed closest to the pragmatic, shapely young rebel. The nosy droid made it as far as the door, which banged shut tightly before its boxy face. More crackly-sounding electronic gripes flowed from the disgruntled machine. It hated being left out of the loop.

Once inside her colorful quarters, Sabine got right to work. Quickly getting her hands on the medicinal cream, she ordered Ezra to seat himself, which he did immediately. Zeb would have gloated seeing him do so. Ezra was so sure that her cream would smell horrible, but surprisingly, it smelled quite the opposite. Its aroma was soothing, filling his nostrils with the delightful, delicate fragrance of fresh-picked yogans.

"This stuff will prevent me getting a scar?" Ezra prompted, penetrating her eyes with his that probed.

"Uh huh. It should." Sabine frowned a fraction, pouring her soul into her task. This needed to be done just right. She took pride in her handiwork, always did, no matter where she placed it. Scrawled across the side of a TIE-fighter, or even this young warrior's squirming face. Ezra squirmed too much for her liking, so she told him to hold still for the umpteenth time. She gave his chin in her hand another firm squeeze. "Hold still!"

"Yeah. All right." It was easier said than done. Having her so close like this was unfamiliar and ticklish, despite its being very, very nice. Even nicer than any dream he'd had about her to date. She genuinely seemed to care about him. At this moment in time, what more could he ask for? She giving him her full attention.

Ezra calmed, his fidgeting ceased as he gazed thoughtfully at Sabine. Was she almost done with attending to him? He felt her concern with every stroke of application. She'd started using another cream. The first one had been a bright blue; this one she used now reminded him of a sunset on his homeworld. He had the feeling that she was using his countenance as a canvas, blending the hues together as she both treated and created a work of aesthetics upon his skin.

"Have a look," she invited, handing him a small hand mirror for his inspection. She exuded pride, never apologetic for her displays.

Ezra took up what she proffered, looked; a small gasp escaped him. Just as he'd suspected, Sabine's handiwork was plainly on his face. What she'd done was nothing short of amazing. "This is great, Sabine. Simply great!" He toyed with the idea of self-inflicting another wound on his other cheek for her to repeat the process. Wait—what? No. He could just ask her to do the honors with more of her signature graffiti, without having to injure himself.

Sabine frowned momentarily, not sure if she was thoroughly pleased with how the B in his last name had come out. The E, for Ezra, had turned out just as she wanted it. "When the wound healing finishes up, the cream will disappear. There'll be no trace of cut, nor color."

"Sabine?"

"Yes?"

Sort of holding his breath, he exhaled in one whoosh. "Do my other side?" He craned his neck, offering his unmarred facial side like a trophy. "Make it rebel-worthy. You know. Something like…Rebels Rule. The Empire's Run By Fools." He shrugged, feeling then that his off-the-cuff epithet fell short of her expectation.

"That's a lot for your small cheek, but I'll try." Setting her mind and heart to it, Sabine went to work. She thought to add, "Not to worry. The cream's safe for undamaged skin. It's more like a facial."

Ezra closed his eyes, losing himself in her delicate touch, and held as still as stone. He'd be her willing canvas anytime. She was so good.


	2. Chapter 2

Ezra, hadn't taken an instant dislike to Lando Calrissian; the hard feelings had come later. With his sly manner, perfectly coiffured thick, dark hair and smooth manner, Calrissian had worked his cloying charm, trying to suck Sabine in. Bile rose unbidden in Ezra. The gambler's broad shoulders, and deep voice sparked another frisson of jealousy. Ezra never wanted to see him again. Or, to be more precise, he never wanted the scoundrel setting his eyes on Sabine ever again. Smiling so seductively in her face. He'd been so glib, plying her with his silky compliments, praising her artwork. His touting how 'gifted, inspiring,' and 'resourceful' she was had left a bad taste in Ezra. At one point, Ezra had thought that Lando's tongue might actually fall out, scurry to Sabine and literally pat her on the back. The green-eyed monster blazed in Ezra's sad eyes.

Hopping off his bunk, the orphan positioned himself smack in front of the same mirror he'd been inspecting himself in for several weeks now. The cream she'd given him—wow. It had worked, exactly the way she had said it would. And so fast, too. No hint of damage spoiled his face. Not a trace, as though the stormtrooper had never mercilessly ripped into his skin with his energized glove. Ezra traced the healed flesh, not as gingerly as he'd done while healing had progressed, with his fingertips. Still awed, he marveled how Sabine's freaky cream had certainly done the trick! He'd never understand how if he lived to be 200. He relished having had Sabine so close to his face when she applied the cream. He wondered, coming to the conclusion that now since he had healed, the end of her using his face as her canvas was sure to follow. Logically, she'd have no reason to continue the routine. She'd humored him, he understood. Toying with the idea that had a way of staying with him, maybe self-mutilation was the way to go to keep her attention on him where it belonged.

The more he thought about taking a sharp object to his left cheek, the more he realized he was thinking crazy. In a twinkling, he was sifting these tight quarters for anything razor-pointy. A cold, clammy pain tugged at his heart. Look at what he was resorting to…

"Ezra!"

Jarred from his sullen reverie, the teenage Lothal rebel juddered to a halt. As though caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. "Yeah?" Ezra growled, clearly annoyed because Kanan had messed up his dismal search. His master sounded touchy. He often came across that way, like everything got under his skin.

"Another training session. Usual place. Get here now."

Rolling his eyes, Ezra got moving. Defacing his face would have to wait. Training was important. If he hoped to impress Sabine in any way imaginable, he needed to distinguish himself as a Jedi. Awareness that showing off went against the Jedi code rippled through him. He shrugged it off. Whatever it took. The memory of how brightly her eyes had lit up as she'd hung on every word Lando had spoken played before his glowering countenance. The man had womanizer written all over him.

"Ezra!"

"Coming, Master," he fired back, snatching up his one-of-a-kind stylized lightsaber and rushed out of his quarters as though the Emperor himself were on his tail. The sharpness in Kanan's voice might have taken down a Bantha. Ezra ran faster.

"There isn't much time," Kanan reminded him.

"I know. I know." Whatever awaited them on Mudraya would likely call for Ezra being at his best. His skill was increasing; he merely lacked sufficient confidence to let go, wholly surrendering himself to the Force. Trusting it unreservedly. But never succumbing to the impure Dark Side. He needed to be more like Kanan, who was a versatile master, but getting all of it right was hard. Ezra reproached himself for lacking proper discipline, but his master was all too ready and willing to help him attain the requisite self-control.

"You need all the practice you can get," Kanan counseled, his voice spreading about Ezra like netting. "Time's a wasting. You've much too much to learn, still."

"I'm on my way," Ezra claimed, picking up more speed as he sped.

So far, some practice sessions had been better than others. Right now, Ezra's mind was on winning Sabine. What did he need to practice in order to succeed with that? Maybe he should have paid more attention to Lando's wheedling 'rap.' If sugary-sweet fawning was what she wanted, he'd give it to her. At least he would try.

Nipping at the back of his mind was Yoda's beloved principle, forever reminding him: 'Do, or do not. There is no try…'

The little green clawed one's motto tended to dampen the kid's spirits instead of bolstering them. Yoda, the Jedi Master nonpareil, knew precisely how to put goals out there. How one reached said goals was purely subjective. Bridger was determined to use everything he'd learned from the streets coupled with what Kanan was teaching him about the Force, to put a big crimp in the Empire's style of ruthless rule. And, hopefully, win Sabine's heart in the process.

Moving akin to light-speed, Ezra blindly rounded a corner. The insides of Hera's ship seemed to be a labyrinth in disguise, what with its narrow twisting and turning corridors. In less than a second too late to be fully aware of what was happening, he slammed into Sabine, broadside. As resilient as the pert Mandalorian was, Wren was more surprised than hurt. Partially bowled over to the deck, she sprang right back up from a crouch. She wasn't ready to do battle, but her eyes had a bellicose twinkle in them. Expertly, they alighted on Ezra, holding his aghast face intently. His facial expression conveyed horror. The very person who meant the galaxy to him he'd nearly flattened into pulp.

"What's your hurry?"

Sounding out of breath and widening his eyes, Ezra replied, "Kanan's waiting for me."

"More practice?" Sabine asked knowingly.

"Yeah. He wants me seriously ready for whatever we'll face on Mudraya. I want to be ready. I can't let him down." Ezra weighed whether he should add, 'I can't let _you_ down.' All of them, Kanan, Hera, Zeb, even Chopper, had become his family. He didn't want to disappoint any of them. Why was he tongue-tied all of a sudden? His tongue, as though endowed with a will of its own, prevented him from tipping the emotion in his heart. He felt he was unraveling. "I, I…" No; the words wouldn't come.

Sensing his hesitation, Sabine did something he never saw coming. She said something too. Plucking his lightsaber from his hand, she put him on notice. "I like what you've done with your energy blade's handgrip. But…well." She looked directly into her avid admirer's spellbound eyes, dead-set about what she wanted. Ezra, growing hotter under the collar by the second, was melting in his clothes. If he had wanted to say anything, he certainly couldn't utter a syllable now. Confusion suffused his face. "This fancy haft cries out for embellishment," Sabine coquettishly cajoled. She rolled her scintillating eyes and it was priceless. A holdover she'd picked up from Lando, perhaps?

"It does?" Ezra blinked as though he'd just woken up. "Embellishment?" It was hard hearing over the deafening, savage pounding of his doting heart.

Sabine grinned. _This kid_… He often got so lost in his own aggressive fog sometimes. She was glad he'd decided to join them. There was something about this intense young man. Something he possessed, which she couldn't name presently. And no, it wasn't because he was Force-sensitive, diligently applying himself to learn its ways. Would she allow herself to get to know him better? Maybe. She'd see.

Of course Ezra knew what _embellishment_ meant. He wasn't backwards, nor feeble-minded. Sabine had purposely made the context ambiguous. Not mincing words, she clarified what she was getting at. "May I—"

"Yes!" Ezra spate so fast, he flushed. Whatever she wanted was a good idea. How could it not be? This was Sabine.

"You have no idea what I want," she goaded, testing him, bewildering him with her sirenic lips.

When he was able to snap back to reality, he thought…_True enough. _He sighed inaudibly._ Give me the chance to find out_, he whispered to himself, astounded that they were having this conversation. He felt Kanan being a heartbeat away from giving up on him this day. If Ezra's heart was set on being a no-show, so be it. Kanan would be a no-way for practice today, if that's how the kid wanted it.

If this exchange with Sabine trumped the training session, then it was what it was. He'd have such a stern talk with Ezra tomorrow, the kid would never ditch another session ever again…

"Tell me what you want then?" Ezra prompted, leading her gently.

Hefting his lightsaber between both her hands, she demanded: "My artwork on your Jedi handicraft. To symbolize where you've been—and what you're destined to become."

In no seconds flat, Ezra's answer resounded throughout the _Ghost_.

"**YES**!"

"Now you've kept Kanan waiting long enough, by his grunts of complaint, echoing all through the ship."

"When? When do you want to start?" Bridger sounded like a little kid waiting on a parent's permission.

"Right away. After practice?"

Ezra watched her return his lightsaber, mesmerized. Nodding hard as he sprinted away, he reiterated with his eyes still fully on her, "**YES**!"

"Watch where you're going!" Primly, Sabine regarded him streaking off; a subtle smile playing on her lips. "Heartbreaker," she mumbled, already formulating the design, the textures and hues she planned to use. What she had in mind would be her greatest artisanship yet. Lovingly done...

For Ezra.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hoping for something better_, or words to that effect. That was how Hera had eloquently put it as she'd gazed upward longingly at the stars. It had been a touching, quiet moment she and Ezra had shared while sitting on her ship's lowered ramp following the fiasco involving Gall Trayvis. The senator was a spy, in stark actuality. His betrayal had come as a shock, and had left the crew reeling. None of them would be so quick to trust _anyone_ from here on out.

Hera was truly wise, a strong, decisive purposeful Twi'lik female. The heart of the group, she knew what it took to keep her team together when they might have otherwise fallen apart. Never in a million years had Ezra given a thought to r &amp; r being granted with this bunch. They were all about anti-Empire activity, practically non-stop. So when Hera declared a day ago that they were heading for the outer-rim world, Arnow XI, a lush, tropical world of palpable beauty, Ezra thought he hadn't heard right. Perhaps the announcement might have been part and parcel of another of his aberrant dreams. Not true, though. Hera, attuned to and mindful of the needs of her crew, knew that a bit of tranquility, coupled with fun, was just what they were needing. One holiday, made-to-order for weary, battle-fatigued rebels was in order.

Kanan had agreed…another startling phenomenon. If his draggy demeanor meant anything, the Jedi wasn't immune to exhaustion, either, like the rest of them. Even robust Zeb looked a bit saggy around the edges. Hera had mentioned that the ship needed a good overhaul, what with the extensive wear and tear outmaneuvering the Empire demanded of it. Yes, the _Ghost_ needed a vacation too. So the vote had been unanimous. Off to the planet of sublime delight they had gone.

Imperials didn't infest Arnow XI. A planetary cloaking device masked the globe in invisibility. Only savvy spacefarers knew of its existence.

In a word, this place was astounding…

Ezra had never seen the like. This garden paradise was the stark opposite of Lothal with its plush sprawls of exotic vegetation. He couldn't name any blossom, sprout or fruitage flourishing to distraction. The entire planet was designed for catering to divertissement. Diversions abounded as each member of the crew discovered. Hera, along with Kanan had gone off to see what sky-chasing was all about. Zeb, unable to decide if he wanted to try his hand at that, or explore some of the costal subterranean caves, finally settled on honing his scaling skills. The highest nearby elevation rose 20,000 feet above planetary sea level. That was a challenge he felt up for. He'd said he'd be back, eager to render a blow-by-blow run-down of the climb.

He'd asked for any takers for the quest to the summit, but his fellow rebels had left him hanging. There'd been a few muffled comments about his proposition was too akin to what they were trying to get some rest from. Strenuous activity. What was wrong with actively pursuing downtime?

"Guess it just leaves you and me." Ezra couldn't have been more pleased.

Sabine looked somewhat put out, but she brightened. Hanging out with her not so secret admirer was uncharted territory. Mentally shrugging, she smiled at Ezra, and went with the peaceful atmosphere of the balmy setting. "And Chopper," she tactfully reminded.

"Yeah, sure. But, I think Hera made it clear that Chopper remaining with the ship is the droid's responsibility." Better it be Chopper's than his. What a waste of being in such a great place, having to babysit the freighter with temperamental mechanization. Even the _Phantom_'s folding wings were acting up all too often lately, which spelled trouble during covert ops. The last operation had nearly been a catastrophe when the shuttle's topside aft laser cannon had misfired repeatedly.

Sabine's winsome face brightened even more as she bounced this idea off him. "I'm not leaving here without going for a swim. Either in the sea-green ocean, or in one of these freshwater lagoons." It had been ages since she'd slapped away water with her hands, slicing through it as she kicked.

"A swim?" Ezra tossed back, a hitch in his reply. There weren't many places on Lothal to take the plunge. There were seas of prairie, not much water. Lots of dust and dirt, but precious little H2O for diving into.

"Yeah. You know. Go for a dip." She'd been swimming since the age of two; her mother and her mom's brother, an aquatic-loving uncle, had taught her. All this had been way before the Empire had negatively impacted her kin.

What would she think of Ezra if she knew he didn't know how?

"What's wrong?" Sabine asked, gently raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, wrong? Nothing's wro—" Ezra frowned, hearing how sharp he sounded, cross. Beginning again, he shrugged. "I guess it'd be fun," he growled softly.

"I love swimming."

Well, since she did, he would go along. For her sake. Anything for Sabine, right? "Okay, then. Let's go…"

She wore the tasteful, although alluring suit underneath her sleek, colorful outfit. When she emerged from behind the thick canopy of vibrant flora, putting herself on modest display, Ezra struggled for breath. His preparedness for seeing Sabine wearing considerably less clothes was thoroughly inadequate. Beads of sweat pimpled his forehead. His throat was as dry as dead Loth-cat bones.

Not entirely clueless, she sweetly asked him, "Are you all right?"

Ezra, his face falling, willed himself to stand taller, demanding of himself to sound like a grown man. Or, at least fake it. He felt weak. "S-sure. I, I'm fine."

"You're probably not wearing a suit." Her delicate brow arched. "Most likely there's one your size back at the cabana," Sabine helpfully supplied, judging from his hesitant expression that he hadn't come prepared. She had sprung her suggestion on him after all.

"No. No, I'm not." Should he own up, or keep his lack of natation knowledge to himself?

Sabine finished tucking her clothes into the twin-zipper satchel she happened to produce with her first name written on it in her signature style. "I'll wait for you here. Hurry up. Get a move on. We'll head to the lagoon closest to the beach; it's not far."

He hesitated, but then decided suiting up would do no harm. Just as Sabine had predicted, he located swim togs that fit him. It wasn't long before he rejoined her and she put up a great front, not letting on that for a 15-year-old, he had a great build.

"Race ya," Sabine challenged, giggling girlishly, a wondrous sound.

"You're on!" Ezra erupted, taking her on with pleasure.

They sprinted off, Sabine leading. He gained until they were neck-in-neck, but she pulled away, leading the entire way on the level, well-groomed path. When they arrived at the lagoon, Sabine cast off the satchel, yelled at the top of her lungs, "Eire!" With hands up and with total abandon, she bounded upward, tucking her legs into her chest as her arms wrapped around them and cannonballed into the deep socket of shimmering iridescent water. When she came up, her hair scintillated, clinging to her bubbly face, her smile radiating over the water.

"You're the rotten egg!" she insisted.

Looking all kinds of dazed, Ezra had fallen well short of the body of enticing water. How deep was it, he wondered, fearing it was bottomless. A realization gradually nestled him in an awareness. Sabine wouldn't let him drown. Would she…

Like a real man, he confessed, "I can't swim."

"Oh?"

"Nope. Nobody ever taught me. My parents didn't know how either." His confidence in her kept building. "Is it hard? Could _you_ teach me?"

Already, having swum to him, Sabine nodded, extending her hand in welcome. "Not hard at all. I'll show you." Noting his loss of skepticism, she further encouraged, "Trust me. I'll have you slipping along like lu-fishes."

Lowering himself into the unknown, Ezra took her hand, losing himself in her assurances. Succeeding when he thought he was failing. Torque was with him. By the end of the day, she had him fearlessly diving into the lagoon, gliding underwater, proving to him that having faith in his abilities and the backing of a true friend surmounts the innermost fears.

All sealed with the lightest of kisses upon his cheek before the sun set. Tomorrow, they'd tackle the ocean. Together.


	4. Chapter 4

The wretched Empire had done it again! This evil horde with their smug hatred and dark ambitions had ruined things. And just when a helping hand had been extended, these villains had dislocated it. They'd disorganized his new family. They had bashed a big, gaping hole in it. Kanan was their prisoner, in their lethal clutches. He might even be dead. The Inquisitor relished murdering Jedi. The pale, grotesque Pau'an was aggressively maniacal about it. He embraced the dark side and the dark side rewarded him with unspeakable power. Power too bewildering to contemplate. Deranged dominance. Ezra, disheveled, sank deeper into his bunk, which seemed more like an abyss, his eyes fixed on the compartment's drab overlay, boring holes into it.

Tears, more tears still needing to be shed stung his eyes. He blinked rapidly to stave them off, but was unsuccessful. Too much pain was strangling his heart. Kanan-gone! What were they going to do now? Ezra rubbed at his eyes as though he would be successful blotting out the tears with his balled hands. First his parents, now Kanan. His pent-up tears overwhelmed his eyes, which were brutally swollen.

These quarters, which he hadn't emerged from in days since their failure, were what silence meant. He had not eaten at all, nor slept well. He had forgotten the meaning of resilience. He strained, trying to sense his kidnapped master. Was Kanan still breathing? Did he still have a pulse? Ezra's pulse throbbed in his neck. There was still so much to learn; so much he still lacked concerning knowledge of the Force. Kanan affectionately calling him 'padawan' echoed in Ezra's troubled, worn-down mind. He sobbed fitfully.

Was he giving up…on his new family? On life itself? All of them kept urging him: come on, snap out of it. We'll get him back. We need your help. We're in this together. Do it for Kanan! Well, he was trying, but so far, he wasn't cutting it. He couldn't get through to his mentor. He didn't know how. He wasn't good enough. Facing the reality that Kanan might very well be dead was too much.

He should have jumped to his defense when the Inquisitor had attacked his master. Foolhardy maybe, but it would have been better than choking down recriminations now. Reproaching himself for his lack of courage plagued him to no end. The big, black hole of despair was never letting him out. He knew that; accepted it. Raged against it still. Worrying a hangnail, he finally bit it off. The skin he tore it from began to bleed profusely. He stuck his index finger in his mouth and sucked.

The ragged tissue at the side of his nail began swelling almost instantaneously. He sucked harder. This sort of pain was easier to dominate.

Zeb had relinquished him, having decided to allow him to wallow in self-pity in peace. Well, almost. The big guy would lumber by, bam on the door several times, then go off, leaving Ezra to brood. Hera was a wellspring of wisdom and encouragement, but he'd chosen to ignore her. Even Chopper had been firing off servo-inspired advice, which too had gone unheeded.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Sabine was the only one who'd had enough sense to just leave him be.

Tears flowed from his eyes. New cracks in his psyche appeared. His voice wobbled when he spoke. "K-Kanan, do you hear me? W-where are you? W-what are they doing to you? Are y-you all right?"

The void was voiceless. Ezra's heart sank to lower, untenable depths. Squirming, he shifted violently onto his left side, facing away from the shipboard room. Grief upon grief. Terrible news. Word had reached them, here on this backwater world. It had been reported that the Empire had taken what they'd done out on Lothal locals. Residents were being rounded up, interrogated, beaten and held for several days for no reason.

What a mess they'd made of so many things. So often thinking that they were invincible. Always right. Could do no wrong. No one was like that; not even Jedi.

Ezra silently yelled at himself at the top of his lungs: _None of this would have happened if we hadn't made that broadcast! I said it wasn't a good idea, but no one—no one listened! Now Kanan's gone. Probably dead. And we're lost—going nowhere! I can't take this. This not knowing what to do! It's all so wrong. It's all gone horribly wrong!_

A messy, insufferable mess!

Writhing, he doubled into himself and shook, weeping yet again. He cried out, begging for relief he believed was impossible to come. On the verge of convulsing uncontrollably, Ezra went stone still. _What was that sound?_ In the grim dimness of the dingy room, a strange warmth fanned out, over him, caressing. A calmer voice from within told him to leave the bunk and go to the door, instead of telling who was there to come in. Or, go away, as he'd forcefully been doing.

Not hesitating, Ezra obeyed. The warmth was beguiling, but felt so good, as his mind went blank.

_"Open the door…"_

And…when…he…did, there stood Sabine, glaring at him, but her glare was soft around its edges. She came bearing a tray laden with all manner of sustenance. This wasn't the routine foodstuffs from the ship's stores. She'd been to the local market, which she knew her way around.

The voice in his head was replaced by hers. "Finally," she murmured, brushing past him in a huff.

He thought to speak, but his head was way out of synch with his tongue. He opened his mouth, speechless. So, he promptly closed it lest she remark how silly he looked with his mouth hanging open.

She set the tray down on what passed for a table to invite, "I won't take no for an answer. You've got to eat something. Anything. Here it is. Practically everything I could lay my hands on. So get over here and start eating. Or I'll make you, Ezra Bridger!" The petite Mandalorian was spitfire incarnate when she got like this. "Don't even think of saying, 'I'm not hungry.'"

The glints in her eyes made it clear to him that Sabine meant business.

Instead of saying, 'I'm not hungry,' he replied, "What's all this?" Without thinking, he padded over to the supposed table, pulled up a storage crate and parked himself. He sprayed her with sheepish looks.

"You need to bathe," she snidely reported. She'd smelled worse often before, but she thought to let her opinion sink in. She knew, though she tried hiding it, that he took what she told him seriously. "But first—you eat!"

"What exactly is all this stuff?" He looked over the fare new to him, began picking at the spongy, sweet-smelling, fruity-looking item covered in down with his three-pronged utensil. It oozed juice when he stabbed it.

"Put in mouth, chew," Sabine abbreviated, handing her words to him as she would a blaster.

Reciprocating her being short with him, he snapped, "I thought you were different."

"Meaning?" Sabine, absorbing his attitude, knew what he was driving at. She took his annoyance in stride.

He stared off into space for a couple of seconds, feeling her fill up the room with her commanding presence. Then he groused, "Leaving me alone. You just have to be like the rest. Pestering me." No sooner had this spate of protestation left his mouth, he regretted having said it. If she didn't care, she wouldn't have bothered. _She must care about you, _sang out in his head. Is this the thanks she gets? Treating her like crap? Before Sabine, looking surly could reply, he crammed in, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Taking it on the chin, she shrugged. "Dig in. I've got to—"

"Don't go," he appealed, sounding broken, about to be cast off. "Eat with me."

"Ezra, I've—"

"I won't eat a bite unless you stay." Spoken like a true emotional blackmailer.

She dropped down beside him since the crate was large enough to seat two. "Oh, okay. But just long enough to see that you eat most of what's here." She helped herself to a _clozy_. A type of spiced meat encased in coarse dough before being fried. "Go on then. I haven't got all day." She had intel to check out, alone. Intel that might lead them to Kanan. But she didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Especially Ezra's.

Surprised that she had chosen to sit next to him, he cracked, "You recommended I bathe. Remember?"

"I'm not spending the rest of the day with you. _You_ remember," she gently retorted, nudging him in the ribs with her slender elbow. She watched him begin, eating a little at a time until he was eating with as much zest as Zeb, whose appetite never needed whetting. _Ravenous_, Sabine thought smugly and was reminded of an old saying from her homeworld...'eat for the hunger that comes.'

He hadn't felt this calm in days and Ezra wished she didn't have to go anywhere for quite some time. That she might stay long after he finished his last unforgettable bite, along with making him forget that Kanan was never coming back.

Sabine eyed him before uttering a word. In time she said, "I have another surprise."

Perking up a bit more, he responded, "Yeah? Like what?"

Before she rose, she carefully answered, "You'll see." And Ezra, looking as perplexed as before, had no chance to press her further. Hurriedly, she primed her surprise with one smaller, marking the spot on his sallow cheek with her stealthy eyes, aiming her lips at it. She kissed him, her cagy eyes dancing. Ezra yelped and jumped at the same time. "Finish up," Sabine stipulated, her voice husky, upon rising to a stalwart stance.

"If you're going somewhere, I'll go with you," Ezra insisted, his wealth of feeling sorry for himself lessening.

"Not this time, Bridger. It's better this is handled the way it's been outlined. Like I said, finish your food. I'll fill you in later."

He didn't like the idea of her tackling something that could prove risky on her own, but she'd practically handed him an ultimatum. She was feisty, stubborn and the most unpredictable girl he'd ever known. Not that he'd known that many girls. Not too long ago, girls were on his 'ick' list. Of course, that was when he was at that age when most boys thought the worst about girls. Pretty ones like Sabine drew him like gadflies to sugary goodies these days.

"Whatever you're up to, be careful," he imposed.

"Hera and I, and certainly Zeb, plan to."

So...she wasn't off to wherever all by herself. The rest of the crew was back-up. Ezra rested easier.

Then, as though an afterthought, she added, "It does me good to see you eat like that."

Would she give him another little kiss on the cheek if he asked? He still hadn't quite recovered from the first one, having coming out of the blue as it had.

"Sabine?"

Before she reached the door, she swung around. "Yeah?"

"Think Kanan's still alive?" His question hurt his throat, locking his jaw.

She walked back to Ezra and with a sigh, leaned down, getting right into his face. "Let's stay positive about that. Right?" As he finished nodding, she brushed his other cheek with her softer than soft lips. "Take that as a yes. See ya, Bridger. I won't be long. Promise."

Once she'd left him alone, he snapped out of his dazed stupor to burble, "S-see ya. And thanks..."

He'd eaten more than he should have, but somehow it just felt right. Exactly like it had during the swimming lesson and as he smiled to himself and rose, he headed for the 'fresher. He owed her being squeaky clean the next time they were together.


	5. Chapter 5

Ezra glared down at the lounge couch, its fabric worn, but smooth to his touch. His hand twitched as he picked at the tufts in the material. Pitching forward, he leaned down, like a hunchback, burying his hands in his hair. Creeping fingers wound his hair into whorls. He held his breath for as long as he could. He was getting better with this, holding his breath longer each time. His chest rested against his long, lean thighs. He closed his eyes. He concentrated, bent on communing with Kanan. He had not been able to do so for a while. Not since they'd embarked upon this rescue mission, with Hera fully onboard with the attempt.

Kanan…

He could not be dead, or they wouldn't be making this trip. The enemy would not waste its time with a dead body. Preoccupation with this thought was a mainstay of hope. The faster they got to him, the better chance they had of making off with him intact.

Squeezing his eyes even tighter shut, Ezra endeavored to put into practice his master's instructions. Pivotal words of guidance chimed in his head. His brow furrowed. Another word kept getting in the way, interfering with his resolve.

_Mustafar_…

The name of the place where it was touted that Jedi went to die had managed to worm its way into every recess of his tormented mind. The fiery world's reputation never gave him a moment's peace, unceasingly jerking him around.

Disoriented, he straightened up, shaking his head as though it were a ragdoll's. At least doing this released some of his stiffness and tension, which kept ratcheting up. And up, and up, and up. Pain killers worked fine for physical aching. The ache he had would only be cured when they had Kanan back.

Ezra, although knowing he should, couldn't bring himself to go back to Zeb's and his quarters. He wasn't all that sure Zeb wanted him back in with him. Ezra wasn't the easiest person to live with these days, what with his moody outbursts and surly behavior. Not to mention wreaking havoc with Orrelios' sleep. The Lesat, although not known for being a light sleeper, had thrown him out any number of times, dead set on getting needed sleep in peace.

This old couch never complained. Never berated him for flailing his arms and legs savagely against its padding. What little there was of it, in the furnishing's scruffy condition. Hera's ship couldn't help showing its age, what with all the wear and tear it received. The lounge couch never cared how loudly, and how often Ezra cried out in anguish, in the throes of a vicious nightmare. Beating it down as he feverishly worked to free his master from the Empire's coldblooded, heartless minions.

His face contorted and he thought:

_Mustafar_…

"You in here again?" His clipped affectation permeated her short and sweet delivery. The trim gal regarded him in compassion. She had begun running out of ideas just how to lift his spirits. Cheering him up had somehow become a full-time job.

Ezra, although knowing who it was, didn't bother looking up from the position he'd reassumed. The sweet musk of Sabine filled his nose, driving him to distraction. One welcomed. The gentle tonality of her voice worked its wile, stilling his thoughts that easily had their way of spiraling out of control. He needed Kanan back in his life something fierce. Her shoulder to cry on wasn't some shabby swap, though.

He nodded in answer, knowing that his verbal response would sound miserable. His dark frame of mind, highly depressive in scope, smoldered. He wanted her to leave him alone, although he didn't want that, deep down. She was offering him her consideration, who was he to rebuff it? Torn up inside, Ezra whiffled. Would it bother her if he remained silent? The silence was deafening, even in his own ears. This was hard for him. He needed, shook with want, but he carried on as though he were stone. An island unto himself. Familiar territory, but unsatisfying.

He squelched his tears, behaving as though they'd never formed in the first place. _Shake it off_. Babies cried; he was no baby. Though still young, he had taken on the responsibilities of a man. He vowed he would be one, come what may.

Sabine expected it; they all did.

By this time, she had dropped down beside him on the couch with a slight _plop_. The quiet didn't seem to bother her, as Ezra supposed. She chatted blithely on. "Hear that?"

This time, he shrugged, still hugging his knees. Words were forming, but his mouth wasn't ready to uncork them.

"That's your bunk calling your name. It misses you."

"Zeb doesn't," Ezra croaked.

Sabine kept her sigh quiet. "Can we not talk about him right now. And just concentrate on you?"

Instead of shrugging again, he muttered, "O…" He sighed heavily. "Kay."

"Your Dreams're pretty bad, huh?" Sabine, asked, easing into the touchy subject.

"The worst." With deliberate purpose, Ezra began uncoiling himself. The least he could do was come to a correct sitting position for her sake. Gazing into her eyes, drinking in their flawless luster never did him any harm.

Sabine fell silent then. Looking inward, contemplative. She cared for him, despite her cold-fish exterior she unfailingly displayed. Covertly, she'd begun nurturing these perplexing feelings skirring within her. He had toned down the overweening roustabout to emerge as someone she could respect. Perhaps even love, in time. These feelings were still all too new. She needed more time to get used to them. Being on her own for as long as she'd been had fine-tuned her self-reliance. A flint-like work of art.

She was Sabine Wren, the artistic weapons expert, an integral part of their well-oiled machine, this ragtag rebel faction based on Lothal. And now, she was seeing herself as this kid's close, treasured friend. As naturally as breathing, she slipped her arm about his shoulders, wreathing them. She forced her smile to permeate her eyes as he looked deeply into them.

"Can you talk about your dreams?" she softly spoke.

"These nightmares, one in particular… It's like we're almost about to rescue Kanan. Then up pops the Inquisitor, blocking my getting to Kanan. The Inquisitor is goading me. Challenging me to fight him. If I don't, Kanan and I-we both die. Then before I can do, or say anything, we're fighting high over the fires of Mustafar. On some invisible platform. It's so hot, I can't see straight. The Inquisitor has got Kanan locked tight in a Force cage. There's no way he can get out…"

"You think this'll happen?" Sabine inquired, as calmly as her feeling would allow.

Ezra crumpled, visibly shaken. "I don't know. I don't know. Kanan would explain it better than I, if he were here. Much of all this Force business is too new for me. I'm not sure if I'll ever really understand it all." He slumped against her.

Sabine, not saying much, could empathize. As was the case with Ezra and the Force, so too it was with her and her evolving feelings for this jittery apprentice. The hold she had of him firmed. "You know enough. Enough to get our honcho and friend back."

Still remaining an issue for him, Ezra queried, "You think so?" It stank, feeling this feckless.

Sabine's ungloved hand smoothed over his thigh. "I know so."

The verve interlaced with sincerity of her faith jolted him. "B-but why? How? How can you be so sure?"

A change came over her, one impossible to miss. One that went straight to his heart. "Because I'm getting to know you. And I like what I see…" Thoughtfully, Sabine, as though she'd been doing it for years, ran her free hand through his hair.

_If this is a dream, this better not be the Inquisitor_, raced through Ezra's mind_. Not a dream, not a dream_ repeated all the while as she drew her face closer to his in cozy cheek-to-cheek proximity. Next he thought: _If anyone interrupts this, I'll Force them out_.

His heart pounded through his suit. Anticipation was a glowing ember in his belly. All of her nuances took on newer meaning. Sabine was everything, at once. He felt his throat tighten, filling with pressure locked in. Along with his jaw, also feeling the strain.

"I like very much," Sabine purred, blowing tiny draughts of air along his quivering jaw line.

This dream, if in truth it was one, was shaping reality. Such a lovely way this was to salve his emotional wounds. His voice finally emerged from his tight throat, it was a macerated squeak. "I l-like you too." What he should do? Be passive, or meet her halfway? "Very much, I mean."

The Ghost's confines blurred as though vertigo had set in, when Sabine stroked her thumb over the boyish flesh of his lips. His neck's nape prickled. Ezra had the feeling he must be looking perpetually startled as Sabine puckered her lips. Mirroring her, Ezra did the same with his. She sketched one of his cheekbones with a hovering finger, then an ancient dimpled scar near the corner of an eye. There was longing in her eyes, he unobjectively assumed.

That went for his eyes too.

Wisely, he kept quiet, not wishing to spoil it for himself. Nor for her as well. She was doing great, taking the initiative.

Sensing what she was doing might not be what he wanted, she whispered, "I won't bite."

"That goes for me too." He thought to say: 'Proceed." But it sounded ludicrous to his inner ear.

Still, her lips made no contact.

"Uh…Sabine?" She smiled an unconvincing description of a smile. Ezra was used to seeing a sudden sadness huddling within her magical brown eyes. Observing it crouching there sparked a twanging pang. "Are you all right?" he petitioned.

"Are you?" After she kissed him full on his mouth, she huskily continued with a whisper. "Much better, now."

"D-does th-this mean-"

"It means you're going to get through this. All of us will as long as we stick together."

Ezra truly agreed, going in for a bit more of Sabine's confidence-building.

Deciding not to hold back, Sabine gratefully obliged, pouring even more emotion into her ministrations. Ezra gave better than she gave, this time around. In his eager embrace, Sabine easily recognized that he wasn't new to kissing. She wasn't a flirt.

But she knew talent when she kissed one who had it.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Sorry about the updating lapses. But, I thank everyone who's read and reviewed. All your thoughts are valuable to me. They spur me on. Thanks so much.

* * *

"Hold still!"

After jiggling his face, she paused, pursing her lips, treating him as if he had reverted to a two-year-old. In the back of her mind, the thought tapped that he was younger than she.

He trained his eyes on those sensuous lips, spellbound. "I am holding still!" he squeezed through his lips pressed together. What would happen if he suddenly broke his face out of her firm grasp, swept her into his arms, kissing her until she gasped for air?

"No you're not—just like the last time." Sabine smirked, her wiseacre facial expression driving her point home. These twin wounds were deeper, nastier than those sustained a while back. "You're even more fidgety this time around. How do you expect a work of art to grace your face for a while if it turns out all squiggly?" She'd fix his face, her cream would make it as good as new, just like the last time. She'd save his face, again because she could, unthinkable that she wouldn't want to. His cute mug was far too unique to be beat-up, defaced. That adorable face of his, which she had begun to treasure.

She hadn't come right out, telling him that. Not that first time. She hadn't been where she was now, caring about him. Wanting things for him to turn out well.

Ezra settled down, quietly admitting that she was right. Her cream she'd used on him before had worked wonders, having prevented that initial facial wound from scarring. As Sabine worked on his face, carefully applying the sweet-smelling ointment artistically, he took in the sedate elegance of her quarters. He liked being in here with her, grateful to her for her concern and the way she was applying her soothing, miraculous emollient.

"I really liked what you did to the tie-fighter," Ezra gushed, suddenly thinking that he should say something complimentary about her bold creativity. Whether it be with pattern and designs or pulse charges and laying down defensive fire. "You're not gonna believe this, but I overheard one of the bucket-heads say he liked it too." Under his breath, he breathed, "Through the Force."

"Maybe there's hope for some of them yet," Sabine chided, concentrating as she put the finishing touches on the broader of the two wounds. Ezra kept a straight face while watching her fixate on her handiwork with her tongue out as though sensing the air with it.

_She's the prettiest girl I've ever known_…Ezra couldn't help think; when he dreamed, Sabine was never absent. _Does she like me as much as I'm crazy about her_?

He thought hard about his feelings, wondering if she might sense them.

Abruptly, Sabine added, "Ahsoka Tano is _Fulcrum_. How come you didn't know that before she told us?" A mental image of the mysterious hooded Togrutan crowded into Sabine's mind, dwarfing her thoughts. At the same time, Sabine stood back to admire her latest artistic accomplishment before attacking the second wound lying beneath the one superior. "Well? How come?"

"Like I've been training to be a Jedi my whole life," he spluttered. Ezra wanted to get a look at what she'd done so far, but, eyeing the dingy mirror lodged in one of the inset panels in her little room, he held off. With a shrug and sounding resigned, he replied, "I don't know. There's a lot I don't know. Like you can't tell? When I was out cold, lying on the lower platform as Kanan and the Inquisitor fought, the rush of so many voices hummed in my mind. They confused me, until eventually I came around. Got me back to where I saw him break the Inquisitor."

"I only know what you tell me," Sabine crisply admitted, stepping in closer again to tackle the other injury, already lightly scabbed. What Ezra had told her so far only made more questions abound. He'd come a long way, but it was as he truthfully acknowledged. There was still so much he must learn before he could truly be called Jedi.

She embellished his wound with the cream while Ezra pondered over what Tano had uttered about his having a greater destiny. Whatever this "greater destiny" was, he knew that it had to include his new family. He wasn't making a move without them. Certainly not without Sabine, this polished new 'apple of his eye,' first and foremost. He wanted no part of a future that excluded her. Despite Kanan's frequent mentioning that Jedi weren't expected to form attachments, Ezra felt sure that there had to be exceptions to that inflexible rule, belonging to another time. A time bygone and terribly long ago.

He and Hera were certainly attached. Weren't they?

As though she'd read his mind, Sabine broached, "Guess you'll be heading out with Fulcrum to fulfill your greater destiny. The one she says lies before you." She mussed up his hair, a playful gesture, to mask her true feelings. She'd miss him more than she could openly admit. But maybe she needed to be more open. Allow what she felt for Ezra greater leeway. If he knew what she really felt for him, maybe he'd stay. Stay with her and this diversified collection of brave souls and one indispensable feisty droid. The tentative tone of her voice remained. "You owe it to yourself and the resistance to be the biggest, most powerful, most indomitable—"

Ezra silenced Sabine, snagging her hand, coaxing it away from his scalp. Thoughtfully, he considered she'd never played with his hair before. Shock and sorrow mingled on his countenance, his pout gloriously-decorated by the brash rebel who'd stolen his heart down to its cockles. Bringing her hand to his lips, he murmured, "You couldn't drag me away. Not even if Fulcrum ordered I be bound at the ankles to twin-engine landspeeders, tearing me away. Not from you. Never from you." His hammering heart beat harder. "You've got me." Said with such poignancy in his words and on his face.

Trying to sound snide, but failing by a mile, Sabine insinuated, "Meaning, I'm stuck." Her cool composure showed signs of detaching. "_W-we're_ stuck with you." Ezra's eyes lit up, believing that he'd heard how shook she'd sounded.

"It's mutual. I'm stuck on you. Sabine, I admit it. I started out on the wrong foot with you. I know that. But, I'm not the same clueless kid who thought he could impress you by being an annoying brat. That guy's wised up thanks to Hera, Kanan. Yeah, Zeb too. And of course gritty Chopper." His voice dropping, deepening, Ezra confessed, "Thanks to you most of all, _Sabine_. You are so incredibly amazing. I'll never be able to thank you enough for all you've done."

Suppressing the sudden rush of tears standing in her eyes, Sabine accorded, "I do what I think is right. At least I try to."

"You never miss."

Sabine glanced away from him, seeming suddenly shy. The second wound bore her signature work, and satisfied, she began walking off to clean the bright silkiness from her talented hands. She might have made it to the shelf where she kept her cleansers if it hadn't been for Ezra's mad scramble. Standing in her way, he determined that he'd had enough of beating around the bush.

"All done. Time to clean up." She tried moving around him, averting her eyes from his. Quite certain that if she looked into his eyes too long, she'd fall under their weird spell and his.

He hustled, again placing himself smack in her way. "Sabine, there's something I've got to say before I tell myself I shouldn't say anything."

His serious, more grown-up tone took her by surprise. All at once, this wasn't 'the kid' in her way. This was a man. The very same man who'd unabashedly admitted that he didn't know how to swim. He'd never learned.

And she had taught him…

"What then? What is it?"

The jitters seized him, but his being in the grip of uncertainty was fleeting. "Sabine?"

"Ezra?"

His hand found hers, slightly larger than his, yet finer. Their fingers braided of their own accord it seemed. Tentatively, he drew her to himself; amazingly, she didn't resist. Just like in his many sugarplum dreams. "I. I…" He shut his eyes, unable to find just the right words. Berating himself because he didn't know the ones she deserved to hear. And even if he did, they'd come out wrong. Whom was he kidding? Who was he to think she'd ever feel the same about him as he did for her? He was Ezra Bridger…just another street punk fresh off the streets of Lothal. He was training to be a Jedi, but that didn't change what he'd come from.

He wasn't good enough for her. Never would be. This 'thing' he wanted to be in with her ended now. He let go of her hand, started walking away, hanging his head.

Sabine lunged, pulling his head in so his lips crashed against hers. Her laughter gurgled deep in her throat, delightful to his ears. He fought to breathe. His mind swam the way it did when the Force thrummed through him. _The Ghost_ tilted on its axis when the girl of his dreams whispered against his tongue, "We're in this together. You and me. Don't you ever forget that, K-." She couldn't say it. That wasn't what he was, not anymore. "Ezra, my Jedi lover…"

Dumbstruck, he imprisoned her in his arms, holding her with all his might, despite his hard time with breathing normally. "May the Force be with _us_."

"The way you're holding me, you're the," Sabine jibed, her tone of voice all too familiar, "Force. Of course, of course. Where would we be without the Force?" Nimbly, with youthful buoyance, she wrestled him to the deck, proving to him that she was a force to be reckoned with in her own right.


	7. Chapter 7

Though Ezra possessed only a fuzzy thread of knowledge about the dark force behind the cold, the coldness that was Darth Vader knew him. The obsessive Sith Lord thirsted for Bridger, turning him to serve the Empire, binding him to malevolence. The boy was so weak, at this stage, but the dark side would empower him and he would serve Sidious, adding to his cadre of slayers.

"Lord Vader..."

"Yes, Master?" the twisted soul beneath the mask responded, subservience leeching, as he kneeled before the power-mad autocrat. "What is thy bidding?"

"I sense conflict within you," Sidious niggled, probing, always searching his Hand through and through. The conflict the Emperor detected lay close to the surface, but Vader's preoccupation with old memories involved more than capturing the young rebel from Lothal.

Beneath his mask, Vader's eyes were closed as images of the past clouded his vision. _Ahsoka_…whispered in his mind, her face shivering behind his eyelids.

"You will face your old padawan," the auger augured.

"Yes, Master," Vader obediently sided, opening his eyes and tightening his hold on his lightsaber secured at his side. "She is a living memory of everything I once was!"

"And will never be again, Lord Vader," the Emperor confirmed, causing the hologram to scintillate.

"Yes, Master." The ceaseless harangue redounded in Vader's mind, confounding his restless thoughts. _Everything that was stolen from me_!

"Good hunting, old friend," Sidious bade and his image disappeared.

Vader lifted himself up from his bow and left his command center, heading for the cruiser's bridge. En route, the men beneath snow white armor genuflected as it was their duty to pay respect to the undisputed strength and might of the Empire. Under his breath, Vader muttered, "I shall find you, and all of your sympathizers. Don't think for one moment you will escape me, my one-time apprentice. Not you, nor any Jedi who sides with you. You reached out to me and I revealed myself to you and all of the dark side's potency." He had felt how she had collapsed aboard the _Ghost_, had perceived her shock, terror and pain. She'd screamed within herself and had fainted dead away, fitting that she should. Her master was now her nemesis, and would ultimately be her undoing.

Vader strode over the gantry leading to the bridge's fore viewport to stare out at the rich, vast blackness of unending space. There was nowhere in all this sprawling galaxy for his enemies to hide. Clenching his gloved hand into a fist, he swore, "I shall defeat you all…"

* * *

"Like I said, kid…" Kanan, heaving a sigh repeated what he hadn't been able to stop reminding Ezra. "We're no match for a Sith Lord. I hate using the word invincible, but it sure as the Force fits. That's why he batted us away like we were llamy-flies. He didn't kill us. Why he didn't keeps bothering me."

"Funny how you kind of sound upset about that." Engaging, but naïve, Ezra boyishly inquired, "What makes him so powerful?" Sabine, her eye-catching hair was sometimes a welcome distraction, sat beside him in the common room, brushing her slender hand along her sweetheart's long forearm. He smiled at her gesture, glad to be here among the camaraderie and sense of belonging extended by his adopted family. "When our lightsabers connected, I couldn't move. Like I'd gone all frozen. And I was burning up, like I was on fire at the same time. It was the creepiest I ever felt." Another involuntary shiver skittered through him. The hand that had brushed his arm Sabine raised, moving toward his face. Gently, she fluttered her fingers against his cheek. Appreciating the tenderness of her strokes, Ezra leaned into her touch.

Communing without words, the gazing youths smiled, mooning into each other's eyes. The harsh reality of what their lives had become all so suddenly got a bit softer around its edges. Fighting for what was right and each other called for the kind of devotion that didn't evaporate under pressure.

Kanan regarded the lovebirds with eyes full of understanding. No longer keeping how they felt about each other a secret, Sabine and Ezra readily expressed such feelings openly. The crew, especially Hera and Kanan, were happy to see their relationship blossom. The Empire was oppressive, squashing happiness wherever it saw fit, but at least in some respects, for all its domination, it would never be able to stamp out affairs of the heart.

"We've discussed this before, Ezra," Kanan seamlessly brought up, noting a look of utter bewilderment in his apprentice's minimally-scarred face. He couldn't help admire the brash young man, who had truly shown his mettle in the heat of redoubtable battle. Not once had he backed down when facing off against the fearsome Sith Lord.

"I'm gonna go check on those containment canisters we'll need once we secure the reinforcements we were promised," Sabine announced, lifting herself from the couch and the hold Ezra had of her with his arm around her waist. The smugglers they were forced to deal with were strictly 'we bring the goods, you supply what's needed to take them away in.' Sort of like intergalactic recycling.

"No, stay," he begged, not self-conscious of how needy he couldn't help but sound. Having Sabine near was like having a tonic in easy reach. "I'll help you with that later. I promised, remember?"

Kanan smiled, winking at him. The kid had all but left out, 'dear.' My how his plaintive tone smacked of Ezra's already tying the knot with the shapely and witty weapons expert.

Firmly, yet mildly, Sabine held her ground. Flashing her eyes with a little laugh, she waved her finger at Ezra. "Give me a head start so you can catch up later." With that, she rippled her fingers through his unruly ravine hair and scooted out of the hold.

Glum momentarily, Ezra sighed, bemused about her having practically turned him into putty with nary a peep of protest from him. Was he complaining? Not by the brightening look on his face.

"You've got our hands full with that one, kiddo," Kanan cajoled.

"As far as I know, my hands aren't complaining," Ezra fired back, then remembered what they'd been discussing before Sabine derailed the train. Before he could get their conversation back on track, his teacher remained at the helm.

"Have you two made plans?"

"Plans?" Ezra tossed back, looking at him with the widest eyes and wrinkled forehead.

"Yeah, the marriage kind?" Kanan boldly parried.

"I thought you said Jedi don't get married."

"I said attachments are discouraged. I said nothing about not getting married." He patted his student soundly on the back. "Think about it. You and Sabine are good together, and I think if you were without her, or she without you, it'd be like a wampa losing its jagged yellow teeth."

"Wow, nice comparison, Kay." Ezra sat further back, sinking deeper into the couch, alarmed that Chopper had stopped fidgeting as if he was paying too close attention. "Think we can discuss this another time?"

"Sure, kid, sure," Kanan acquiesced, mirth roiling in his dark, playful eyes. "The only reason I asked is that Hera and Sabine were talking, and Hera said Sabine wondered what your kids would look like…would they have your eyes, or hers. The same nose and mouth. Hair color?" The Jedi, with tongue in cheek, aped at Ezra. Looking full of himself, Kanan crossed his leg over his left knee and braided his hands behind his neck, like he owned what the Empire hadn't seized yet.

"What!" Ezra brayed.

"Yep," Kanan confirmed, then quickly added, "But you didn't hear any of this from me."


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey, nice hair."

Ezra's eyes were glued to her head. This was some change.

Sabine had told him she had a surprise. Now, Ezra had thought she may be surprising him with, oh, he wasn't exactly sure what the surprise might be. He figured because he'd gotten her some very precious art supplies in that specialty shop when they'd visited Ballol, she was reciprocating. She'd happened to mention that she liked them and when she had left the shop, Ezra had lagged behind. He'd asked the Ballolian, a fuchsia, two-headed biped, how much they were. Ezra's mouth had dropped open and, "_Ah_!" had escaped him. They were astronomically expensive. The spray paint too, if you could believe that. Well, he'd had enough to get them, and not thinking twice, he'd forked over the credits the supplies cost.

And when he'd given them to Sabine, she had been speechless. She couldn't believe he'd unselfishly thought to get them for her. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her, which had earned him a great big hug and one very lingering kiss. Then, at dinner, she'd made a point of sitting next to him, very close, their thighs touching. Something she had never done before. Needless to say, neither of them did much eating.

Ezra reasoned that his grand gifting spelled the turning point in their relationship. He really had the biggest oversized soft spot for the Mandalorian beauty. Her natural beauty, her ability to think so fast on her feet, her quirky sense of humor, it never got old being with her. Ezra figured anything out of the ordinary he did for her could pave the way for convincing Sabine that he was the guy for her. If they really became a couple, she would never be sorry. He'd be hers, all hers, whether they remained with the Ghost crew or set off on their own as an unbreakable team. Not that either she or he planned on leaving this close-knit 'family' anytime soon.

And, not that Ezra was trying to emotionally blackmail her. He just figured how could sweetening his appeal hurt? He was young, had much to learn not only about the Force, but life in general, but he was growing to love her more and more as time passed. It was hard seeing himself with anyone else.

He didn't want to be with anyone else. Look at Hera and Kanan… They belonged together too.

Usually, Sabine wasn't in the habit of seeing things exactly the way Ezra saw them. Oh, she liked him, but that was _like_ in a friendship sort of way. Not exactly as a little brother, who was constantly underfoot, more like a younger guy who was trying so hard to impress her. Sabine had no problem admitting to herself that Ezra was a charmer. His impulsivity and naiveté were endearing. Before joining this crew, she'd been in a serious relationship with a man a number of years older than she. It has often been said that age makes no difference if two people truly are in love. In Sabine's case, her former guy would never let her forget who was older, more experienced, who knew better because he was more savvy about life. He thought her art was juvenile and trite. She should give it up.

His favorite thing to say, to the point of nausea had been: "_Sabi, you've got so much to learn. Who better than me to teach you_? _You'll be better off forgetting all your crazy art. Concentrate on more important things, like…_" She had wanted to deck him when he'd finished off: "_Being the best mercenary and explosives expert you can be. That means no distractions like this silly doodling._"

It had gotten to the point that she was being told what to do about everything. Stuff like that got real old, real fast, so Sabine had backed out, telling the conceited Concordian it was over. She never wanted to see him again, and she'd meant it. She wasn't some flighty girl; she was a woman who knew her own mind, and that mind told her to dump him. Looking back, it so hadn't been a good thing. Her involvement with Minock had reinforced the knowledge that she would never be with a control freak ever again. She was not some clueless woman to be dominated.

What they'd had hadn't been love, more like, 'do what I'm telling you, and I'll be happy. If you're not thrilled, feel free to figure it out for yourself how best to keep on making me happy.'

Fair? Not so much.

How had he dared belittle what she'd been doing since she'd been a child of four? She had the soul of an artist and would continue to follow her imaginative leanings. No one would tell her she couldn't artistically create whenever and wherever she wanted to.

What could make her not want to be respected, appreciated, admired, taking no nonsense from anyone? Did she wish to be loved? Didn't everyone? But, on her terms, not at the expense of who she was. The failed romance and her eventual teaming up with Hera, Kanan, Zeb, Chopper and…in time, Ezra, had made her think twice about jumping into anything serious right away.

Ezra Bridger, what was he to her? What might he become to her? Sabine wasn't sure, but perhaps she'd taken a step in the direction he wanted her to go. What she'd done to herself, could it be considered a first step? Would he take what she'd done that way? It was time to test those waters.

The genuine big smile on his face and his wide eyes had her smiling. She tossed her head, swinging her dyed hair proudly as she stepped farther away from her lavishly-decorated Refresher. She'd given the new paints and brushes, the spray paint especially, Ezra had bestowed a real work-out. Her newly-adorned walls of her refresher exalted her taste, her brilliance. For the most part, these drab, functional space-going ships lacked originality.

Appreciation shone from her lovely eyes, they expressively thanking him once again for his generous gift.

"So you like?" Sabine asked, her eyes never leaving his.

Ezra came up to her for a closer inspection, maybe one that was hands-on if she let him touch her strands that were a lighter shade of blue than his blue-black hair. The ends of her hair were verdant green.

Immediately, he pictured the sparkling emerald seas of Kendor. The ends of her flowing hair matched those waters' aqueous loveliness.

A moment of silence stirred and passed.

Sabine studied his boyish face, giving anything to know what he really thought. Ezra, lost in her eyes that searched him, went limp, strengthened the connection he felt with Sabine, strong, confident, glorious Sabine.

_Gorgeous green_, he thought, over and over, toying with the idea of asking if he could finger the ends of her hair. _I wonder if I should dye my hair the same color blue._

Boldly, he raised his hand, and ran his fingers through his own hair, losing momentum. He recovered quickly. "You look great!" he unabashedly gushed, berating himself because he'd chickened-out. _Where's your nerve_, he hissed internally, taking some calming breaths. _Okay, here goes_…

Hoarsely, he began, "M-mind if I…"

As though she'd read his mind, Sabine obliged, even canting her head at the hand closest to her and invited, "Be my guest."

When he stroked her head, finally, his boldness kicked in, and his fingers combed through. Reaching the ends, he twirled them in and around his fingers with a tickled grin. The feel of silk against the tips of his fingers chased away what little rational thought he possessed. He dragged in a ragged breath and blew it out through loose rounded lips. "Oh, wow, so soft. It's a little shorter too, right?"

"Uh huh. You don't think the color's too…uh…too extreme?"

"No." Ezra, shocked, babbled, "No—no way! It's great! It's perfect." He truncated what had rushed to his lips…_like you_. She was perfect, in oh so many ways. Perfect for their team. Perfect when they spoke together and she knew exactly what he meant without having to explain till he would run out of things to explain. She was just so perfect for him. "I think I should do the same thing to my hair."

"You do?" She sounded as surprised as she looked. "The color of your hair really suits you. I've always thought so. I wouldn't touch it, I mean...I'd leave it alone."

Ezra ordered himself to, '_Be cool, you, or she'll tell you to calm down, like you're so immature. Stop being such a kid, like she's told you before. If you want her to see you as the man for her, be a man. Not kid-ish, like some brand new Padawan_ who has never seen a lightsaber. After clearing his dry throat, Ezra said, "It really suits you, y'know. The colors…" What would be the mature compliment? What would convince her that he knew the difference between puppy love and a committed relationship, or something in-between? So much riding on one comment? He gave it his best shot, telling himself to say it with style.

"Go well with your eyes." Was that mature enough? Or too self-serving? Would she see right through him, he buttering her up so she'd give him the chance to make it personal between them? He'd been down this road before, and she had told him to go back the way he had come. If she ever felt differently about him, she would let him know.

That was _if ever_, as in don't hold your breath…

"You really think so?" Sabine asked, coquettish.

"I really do," Ezra remarked with a rich baritone lilt to his voice. Boy, oh, boy, it had suddenly gotten so warm here, in her quarters. Tatooine heat sparked all over his body. He thought again of Kendor's deep, chilly oceans, those frothy tides bubbling fiercely. Whirlpools churning below the surface drove them. He had always wanted to visit the world. Maybe Sabine might like to go with him, one day, if the Empire was ever toppled, somehow. The planet was one of their resorts where high-ranking personnel vacationed.

His temperature plummeted and he smiled at Sabine, bemused. His feelings tainted and all over the place.

Readily, not being asked, because he certainly had not asked her the reason for the color change, which mirrored the color of his own hair, more or less, she said, "Thanks. That means a lot coming from you." Not hesitating, walking in closer to Ezra, she continued, "I've always liked the hue of your hair. Its pigment is amazing. And…well, I guess I've wanted to make my hair look something like yours, with a little twist, ever since."

"You did it just right," he awarded, noting how close they were standing, toe-to-toe.

"Then…" And not saying anything more, she threw her arms around his neck, giggling. Its sound mesmerizing him. Softly, she breathed, "Goal accomplished." She hung on tighter, hearing Ezra sigh.

His contentment was the dynamic colors of any rainbow, anywhere in this galaxy.


	9. Chapter 9

And now...she'd saved his life, had stuck out her hand in the nick of time and kept him from being blown away by the violent winds of that horrific storm. She'd saved him, and in turn, he'd made the shot that had begun the chain reaction, which had ultimately saved them all.

Then, afterwards, when he couldn't stop thanking Sabine over and over, she'd made him feel as though what she'd done didn't give him any reason to treat her any differently. Surely, he would have done the same for her.

He wasn't satisfied with just his simple, 'thanks.' How was he supposed to make it up to her? Ezra had no idea. As if exactly on cue, Chopper rolled into the youth's quarters, thinking he was just the one to give the kid advice, having overheard Ezra voicing his predicament aloud. As if the spunky droid knew all about such things.

"Sure, I could save her, would in a heartbeat. She knows I'm always looking out for her," Ezra let out uneasily. "We're always looking out for each other. Having each other's backs. That's what this crew is about!" Throwing up his hands at the machine, who studied him, Ezra glowered. "I so want to save her from getting killed." He gasped. His willy-nilly thoughts ahead of thinking rationally. "But that would mean I want something bad to happen so I can save her. I don't ever want anything bad happening to Sabine. I-" He shut his mouth, almost blurting how much he loved his bouncy, vivacious Mandalorian beauty. Of course, if he broadcasted mushy stuff like that to her, she'd just think he'd been hanging upside down too long. He'd shown her what he liked doing, when he was bored, and ever since, Sabine would give him sideway looks, hinting that too much blood had gotten to his head.

He shook his head, tossing himself into his bunk. Into his pillow, he confessed, "I love Sabine so much, it hurts." Then he groaned, hearing how that sounded.

Impossible...

Knowing what to say, just how to say it, and when, had him tied up in knots, all 'shook up.' If his feelings had been visible, they would have appeared as throbbing, messy smack-gel that glowed. The kind of gunk Asorians loved throwing at one another in a sloppy food fight. Not that anyone other than an Asorian could eat the stuff. If a human did, it could kill him or her. The graveled Asorians couldn't get enough of the plentiful food.

Ezra had bought her those art supplies, but having done that, it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. A life debt was one of those things one never forget they owed.

Chopper waved his wands, adamantly aware that the kid was no longer paying him any mind. Typical. This had always been a private one-sided conversation anyway. Not actually taking great offense, the droid wheeled himself out of Ezra's place, not so much offended as resigned. Who really took him seriously unless there was something that needed fixing? Then it was 'Chopper, tend to this!' Or, "Chopper, straigthen that out! Less yapping, more fixing-and be quick about it!'

Scooting his way to his recharging chamber, a little off from the spacious common room, the droid stopped short. He couldn't help noticing another crew member was babbling to herself, all alone. What had come over some of them? Carrying on conversations and no one anywhere nearby. Chopper peeked into Sabine's room, making himself as inconspicuous as was 'droidly' possible, listening closely. What was she saying?

Pacing, she muttered, "I could have lost him, in that moment. If I hadn't latched onto him." Her voice shook worse; Chopper didn't recognize it, the way it sounded, anxious, full of fear. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose him. He's the best friend, best guy friend I've ever had. He's genuine, sincere, and really cute. The cutest guy I've ever known. But, it's not just 'cause he's cute. Ezra Bridger gets me. He really understands what I'm about. He accepts me for who I am. How great is that?"

Chopper yearned to spill what he knew about how Ezra felt, but for once, he kept as quiet as a Datooine mouse, the kind that if the the pesky varmint got under foot, they would sneak into one's clothes and proceed to construct a nest. They were tiny creatures, nearly impossible to spot with the naked eye. Plentiful in grasslands, they thrived by rivers and lakes. They reproduced like flies. It wasn't long before they had adapted to living close to life forms unknowingly supplying them food they didn't have to forage. They were expert pilferers. No one was aware, except Chopper, that there were several of them aboard the Ghost.

Sabine renewed her heartfelt monologue with a sigh. "Knowing Ezra, he feels indebted. Naturally. But, that doesn't mean he owes me anything. If he wants to talk about it, 'cause he loves talking to me about everything, I'll make sure he understands that we're even. He doesn't owe me, but I owe him. I owe him my gratitude. Since he's come into my life, nothing's been the same. I don't know if we'll ever be in a lasting relationship, but what we have is good for right now. That's all I can commit to, coming from where I've been."

When Sabine shot her gaze over to where she'd thought she'd heard something, Chopper, having made himself scarse on the double, was gone.

His circuits humming, like they were about to fry, he continued on his clanking way, his electrical thought process going great guns. Keeping it low, he chirped...'It's a wonder those two haven't gotten killed sooner, the way they are. What's their problem? Tell each other already-or I will.'

But then the barrel-shaped droid knew better. What did a machine know about organic emotions? A machine had no heart. Chopper made what passed for a sigh close to his destination. The sound of running feet dragged him from his reverie and he spun around to face his pursurer.

"Hey, Chopper." Ezra's behavior and appearance gave the impression that he'd just gone a round with an Inquisitor. "I need your help!"

'No rest for the wired,' the droid internally considered, whistling sharply then at Ezra, who threw him a broken look that screamed, "now!"

Chopper thought: _If it's adjusting a weapon, running a system check on a unit, troubleshooting the shields, I'm on it. Your struggles with Sabine-kid, you're on your own!_


	10. Chapter 10

They were alive, thanks to Zeb, but the big-hearted Lasat never took credit for saving Sabine and him single-handedly. He was noble like that, brave too, extremely likeable once a person got to know him well. Wisdom and courage had their places in this path they had chosen. Had it been unwise to reconnaissance that abandoned medical installation without Kanan? How could his master be in two places at the same time? That was impossible. Looking back, none of them knew what lay ahead, so questions like that didn't help. But, his questions were many. One thing was clear: This crew, more family than crew, was against the Empire. By helping each other, and those fighting against this evil too, they'd come out on top. That's the mantra keeping them going.

But, the boy training to become like his mentor knew he had to get better. Take his training a lot more seriously if he hoped to win against the likes of the Inquisitors. He must improve, at all costs. The thing was, training was tedious and more often than not it wound up being...well just a bit boring, sometimes. It wasn't Kanan's fault. Was it his own? Maybe the fault lay in them both. Kanan was all about Ezra's advancement, honing everything that would make him succeed in becoming like him. The teen longed for that too, but at the same time, Ezra wanted a little fun, sometimes. Was that too much to ask? Why couldn't more excitement and enjoyment be combined? He couldn't see why that was so hard.

Ezra had finished checking Chopper, going over circuitry and subroutines to make sure he was really okay. The feisty droid had taken a beating this time at the hands of those latest threats. All four of them had, actually. Zeb, Chopper, Sabine and he might have never made it back this time. Ezra paused in the passageway of the _Ghost_, listening to the engines hum. The humming tranquilized him, helped him to sort through thoughts and feelings. Would he ever master what Kanan was trying so diligently to impart to him? What was the Force, really? Confusion so often engulfed Ezra's young mind.

The female Inquisitor had done her job all too well. Psyching him out was troubling him now. Ezra shut his eyes, trying so hard to concentrate, but finding it next to impossible. He wasn't all that sure he was going to be the same again. Even Kanan seemed different, changed somehow since Ezra's description of what had happened in the musty gloom of that old facility. When Ezra stumbled into Sabine, who was also in the same passageway, she told him to look where he was going.

Not going anywhere, he just looked at her, appearing lost. What was it about her eyes that rendered him speechless when he needed to be vocal? He had an idea about making his Jedi training more entertaining, but would she go for it? He didn't know where to begin to ask. She'd probably shut his idea down anyway. She usually liked doing that much too often and much too quickly.

"What's with you?" she asked with her slender arms wrapped around her lean body. She watched him closely, wondering if he might like to help her spray paint some of the crates they picked up from Bothan. Specific instructions applied covering the delivery of this shipment. What they were transporting was a secret, but payment was a sure thing. These days, there wasn't much that was certain unless counting the malignancy the Empire wished to spread as uncertain. The Dark Side of the Force empowered the Empire, poisoning all it touched. It was mandatory that the Rebels be inventive, resourceful, enlightened by the Light Side of the Force. Using her artistic flair, Sabine was told that if the crates were made to appear even drabber than they already were, suspicions about their contents would be cast aside even by curious onlookers.

"Uh...hi, Sab."

Lately, Ezra had taken to shortening her name to that, as though the second syllable was too much for him to say. She let it go, seeing that something was weighing upon him. "Are you okay?" She leaned into her pose, shifting her weight to her left and cocking an eyebrow at him. He hadn't even asked her what he wanted to ask and already she looked as though what was on his mind was out of the question.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," he hedged. How to put it?

"Well, if you say so. Personally, you look like you could use a clue." She sniffed, looking him over. Since she knew him better now than when he'd joined them, she thought reading him was just a matter of seeing how long it took him to look her in the eye. "Just forget what happened with the Inquisitors. Considering there were two of them, you did great, holding them off as best you could."

Ezra's face turned bright red. He should have done much better than his weak attempt. Putting into practice what he thought he'd learned wasn't easy. Arching his tone, he replied, "What's that supposed to mean?" _Easy, easy_, he told himself; _tick her off and she won't think twice. She'll just say no and that'll be that_.

"It means...you look like you have something on your mind."

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Sabine nodded, giving him a wiseacre grin. "Like what?"

Now, to put it just right would take some finesse, like the kind Calrissian had. Smooth-talking was so easy for Lando. Where had he learned to be the way he was? If it just came naturally, Ezra was in trouble. He was having a hard enough time learning the ways of the Force. Learning the ways of convincing this willful Mandalorian woman to do what he wanted her to do was a whole nother arena. Sabine would always have a mind of her own. By the time he came up with something glib, another voice in his head advised against his going that route.

"I need your help." The direct approach was his forte. His juggling nuances with implications was shaky at best. Forget Calrissian and his fake charm. Smiling, linked with sincerity never hurt, though. Sabine liked it when he showed her what was in his heart.

Angling herself to sidestep him, Sabine began moving off, then stopped herself. Aside form almost forgetting what she had wanted to ask him, he sounded driven, bordering on desperate. She knew Kanan was having his doubts about his own abilities too. Was his having second thoughts about rebelling against the Empire eating away at Ezra's confidence? "What do you need?" she asked with conviction. Ezra had indeed grown on her, and despite his boyishness, which was often endearing, he had become important to her.

"Would you mind participating in a training exercise?" Now how clumsy had that sounded? Ezra shrugged, hoping he hadn't come off sounding that bad. It had sounded somewhat vague. Sabine liked specifics, so he wasted no time adding, "You hide someplace, any place you like, and I try to find you."

"You want to play hide-and-seek?" she exclaimed. Okay, they were teenagers, but not little kids, and she was older than he. Surely she wasn't the type for playing childish games. How could he not know that?

"Not exactly," Ezra fed back, surprised by her irritated tone. "Yes, I want you to hide, but I need to find you by using the Force. Reaching out with it to locate you." Feeling defeated, but still pleading his case so she'd accept, he posed, "Doing this will help us. Next time when we're in a place that seems deserted we won't be taken by surprise 'cause I'll have sensed them. Does that make sense?" He grimaced at her with tender eyes, eyes which begged she concede and thereby make it more fun to go looking for her. He wondered if he should add that if he found her right away, maybe, just maybe, she'd throw in a kiss, just to make it even more interesting. Even though he hesitated, suddenly he blurted, "If I find you fast, I get to kiss you." Realizing how that sounded he shut his mouth and looked away. She'd fine a loophole and change what he'd suggested. Courageously, he looked her in her dreamy eyes and rescinded, "Only if you want to kiss me, that is."

"Bridger..." She called him Bridger when it suited her. It completely suited her now. He could be so charming, at times, and didn't even know it. Her eyes gleamed. "You're on."

"Huh?" He had heard right, hadn't he? She'd be a willing participant?

"On one condition," Sabine imposed, watching surprise cast a shadow over his face.

Peeved, he spilled, "No kiss."

She laughed to herself and told him simply, "No, the kiss can stay. If you take forever to find me, you have to help me spray paint all those crates."

His eyebrows flew up as the sum total of all those bulky containers came to mind. Then he thought it was a small price to pay for Sabine's avid assistance. Fun and a challenge, not bad. "Okay, deal."

"No peeking, now. Count to oh, let's say to thirty." She began backing off as Ezra closed his eyes, turned to the ship's reinforced plating, and covered his ears with his hands. She tiptoed away, her eyes never leaving his form as he counted out loud.

Off she went down a multi-access corridor, sprinting through a short passageway and down a narrow chute that led to the lower decks where she chose to hide herself in a battery well. Excitement rippled through her. The _Ghost_ was a trove of great places for dropping out of sight. She wasn't going to make this easy even though kissing Ezra wasn't punishment by any stretch of the imagination. As young and as naïve as he could be in certain areas, he was no stranger to what a girl liked during an embrace. He concentrated, allowing the Force to shape as well as direct his emotions, desires, hopes, intentions bound up in the girl of his dreams. The youthful teaser, who could take him seriously one moment, and taunt him the next. Where was his temptress...all at once, he felt her, breathed the same air as she, as she barely breathed. Ezra chuckled, tickled. He heard her heart beating not very far off as he followed the same path she'd taken. An image of Kanan popped into his mind, his mentor encouraging further to follow his instincts, as the Force guided him to his goal.

When Ezra opened his eyes, he stood no more than a meter away from where Sabine had herself stashed. Reveling in the strength of the Force, Ezra crept closer to her hiding place. Standing over her hideaway, Ezra quietly said as he knocked on the sturdy housing, "Was that fast enough?"

Emerging from her convoluted place of concealment, Sabine nodded and knew where he was going with this. She had no objections; kissing Ezra was never punishment. She wound her arms about his neck and grinned. "Tag...I'm it!" Their kiss was soft, slow and sweet, as usual. Used to kissing each other this way, their need to breathe wasn't as urgent as it had been once. Ezra had Kanan to teach him the ways of the Force; he had Sabine to teach him the ways of pleasurable necking. Somewhat breathily, she exhaled, "Nice."

"Hmm," Ezra agreed, then happily told her, "I'm ready when you are."

Arching an eyebrow, Sabine warily asked, "For what?"

"To spray paint those crates."

"But you found me fast. You don't have to."

Ezra wound his arms around her and obliged, "Yes I do. I do because you make me want to do...whatever you want me to."

Burrowing her nose comfortably into his neck, after Ezra had levitated her back in his arms again, Sabine said, "I'll make you an artist yet."

Tilting his head so hers fit just right with his, Ezra sighed in contentment. "Tag, I'll be it, if that's what you want."

Her lips brushed across his neck and he shivered.


	11. Chapter 11

She felt bad now, bad that she had pushed Ezra too far. Why else had he run off? Gone for several days now, where was he? Yes, she'd gone too far. Sabine shook her head, ruing her insensitivity, accepting the part she'd played, no longer in denial about being to blame. It hurt, admitting that her blunt remarks might have driven him away. He was part of the crew, the family. He liked her; she tolerated him, she hedged, knowing full well that tolerance was just another way of saying Ezra was increasingly getting to be better than just all right. What she'd said to him about his being a coward, his not being brave or strong enough to take on the Inquisitors had hurt him. Sabine mused, sinking more heavily into the cushioning of the common room's couch. What had she gained from baiting Ezra, teasing him as though she had every right to? Didn't he have thicker skin?

What did that have to do with anything? Thinking that he should did not excuse her lack of empathy.

Well, she wouldn't have him to kick around anymore. If he was gone for good, she'd have to accept that it was her fault. When would she own up to Kanan?

Ezra wasn't as cocky as she, which she downright could be. Ezra was still a kid, never taking bravado and swagger to the level she liked taking it. He'd reacted as a kid would have; he'd run away. Sabine scowled at the emptiness of the deserted hold. She felt her eyes water, but stubbornly told herself she mustn't cry. And she thought that if Ezra had been there, they would be playing a favorite hologame. She'd be winning, no doubt. Ezra would be protesting that she cheated too much, then promptly challenge her to another game anyway when he lost.

He was genuine, loyal, sincere, wore his feelings like a badge and she had hurt him for having been afraid. She'd belittled what made him so likeable, his honesty.

When he returned from who knew where he'd run off to, she would apologize to him for her careless taunting, her cruel spoofing. Mockingly, she said to herself, "He's just learning. Why did you have to be so cynical?" Caustically, she muttered, "What if he doesn't come back?" Feeling lightheaded suddenly, Sabine raised an unsteady hand to her throbbing head. When was the last time she'd eaten? Not being able to remember wasn't a good sign, and then it struck her that she hadn't eaten a bite since the impetuous teen from Lothal had gone missing. Kanan was not just upset, he was partially in shock. He thought he and Ezra had something akin to a father-son relationship. Ezra's running away tore blaster bolts in that supposition. Sabine hadn't come clean, hadn't bothered to confess that her thoughtless comments had driven a wedge between Ezra and his adoptive family. She attempted getting to her feet, but dizziness overwhelmed her. Her vision swam and she thought she saw the air she exhaled as curlicues, shimmery, graceful ones. Her legs sagged and gave out. Back on the couch after the hard fall, Sabine blinked furiously, trying to stave off tears. The inside of her eyes stung. Just as Hera entered the hold, she sighed.

Eyeing her closely, the Twi'lek stood with arms akimbo, taking the sight of a disoriented, disheveled Sabine in. Strong-willed, and so, so sad because you thought you knew how best to handle _his_ failings, Hera thought to herself, sympathy for Sabine curling around her heart. "Uh…are you all right?" Hera already had her answer. Since when had this young woman voluntarily given up eating since becoming a member of her crew? Had gone on about Ezra's not needing them, and they didn't need him. Yet while insisting that, she had choked up every time. Then, couldn't stop wondering aloud, over these past days, where in the galaxy could he be. Was he all right? A knowing smile graced Hera's full, supple lips. "There's something that might make you feel a lot better in the docking bay…"

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Sabine grumbled, burying her tearstained face in her hands. What was Hera doing here? Had she followed her, determined to keep tabs on the heartsick teenage Mandalorian, because the Twi'lek always thought she knew everything, while knowing what was best for them all? She couldn't make her eat if she didn't want to. She couldn't make her feel guilty about chasing the guy from Lothal off. She felt guilty enough for all of the _Ghost_'s crew, Chopper too, who had abandoned them to be with Ezra on the private adventure.

"Come find out. Guaranteed it'll make you feel worlds better." Hera smiled, which Sabine couldn't see since she still had her struggling face buried in her concealing hands.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll stay here," Sabine countered, but there was something in Hera's voice that beckoned to her, as if to say: 'I know something you don't know.'

"It's not the same. You're not the same, ever since Ezra left." Hera approached the worn couch, leaned down to be ear level with the blue-green haired girl. Sabine's sniffles echoed in Hera's sharp ears. "But…guess what…"

"What?" Sabine replied, all grumpy and short-tempered. With Ezra gone, whom did she have to act like this with? She figured that she was moments away from Hera telling her to stop behaving like a spoiled brat. Mentally, Sabine began taking apart a blaster rifle to give herself something other than a wounded Ezra to think about.

"One guess who's back," Hera tantalized, barely able to control her delight.

Sabine's head shot up. Stunned, with gleams of hope piquing in her widened eyes, she gasped, "Ez—" She hooted the rest. "Ra!" Her mind and heart raced a mile a minute. She'd been given another chance with him and she swore she would keep the promise she'd made.

Deep-seated satisfaction welled up in Hera, seeing Sabine spring up from the couch, whiz past her, bolting for the docking bay. Hera was right on her heels as she thought, _these crazy kids_. "See what being hard on him brought you," the older and wiser female rumbled under her breath.

Their wandering fledgling Jedi-in-training had come home where everybody knew he belonged. As Sabine ran all the way, she'd promised herself, and then she would promise _him_ that she'd never disrespect him the way she had ever again. She vowed she'd be his one-woman cheering section. Each of his victories would be their gain.

He made them whole; he made her want him that much more. She would hold him in her arms once more and never let him go.


	12. Chapter 12

"Rex," Ezra began, sounding as though saying the battle-tested clone's name was a request in itself. Ever since the food supply drop-off that the Empire had tried to thwart, and these Rebels had blasted their way through to make the drop-off happen, the teen believed he had the right to know.

"What's on your mind?" The gray-bearded man set his mug of grisling juice down on the console, waiting for the interrogation to begin. The kid was a wealth of questions and he never dissuaded him from firing them off.

"See…I was thinking…"

The look Ezra wore told Rex that, indeed, there must be something urgent on his mind. "Yeah? About what?"

The best way to begin was to start. "How do you know Quarrie?"

With a little smile lounging on his lips, Rex then chuckled. "Why do you want to know?"

Huffing, Ezra let out, "I just do, that's all."

"Yeah, I can see that," Rex acknowledged, downing the rest of the effervescent beverage, then wiping his mouth by swiping the back of his hand against it.

Frowning, Ezra forged on, "Is it some deep, dark secret, or something?

Half sighing, Rex confessed, "Hardly, but it was something I prefer keeping to myself."

Not to be put off, Ezra hounded, "How come?"

With eyebrows slanting up, Rex remained silent for several seconds, debating with himself. "Mon Calamaris don't like too much being said about them."

Ezra scoffed, making no bones about how ridiculous that sounded. "Uh, Rex…last time I checked, we're in hypserspace, with not a Mon Calamari within a parsec. How would Quarrie know what you're saying about him? C'mon."

"Don't let distance between them fool you, son. They're very disciplined folk, make no mistake," Rex summarized, hoping that he hadn't drunk the last of one of his favorite juices. Grisling fruit beverages always put him in a better frame of mind, but harvesting the seed-plentiful, saporific berry called for lots of patience. The elusive crop, found chiefly on lush worlds, was mobile. Harvesting was more like hunting, which called for skill acquired over much time. Talented 'harvesters' were highly sought after, who demanded high pay for their services.

Biting back a smart retort, Ezra studied Rex's impassive face. "Okay. If superstition's holding you back, I guess it'll remain a secret." He threw speculation in the clone's face. "Never took you for being superstitious, though."

"I'm not," Rex hotly retorted.

"Then, tell me," Ezra wheedled, brightening.

When Sabine walked in at that precise moment, Rex immediately had an audience, one he didn't want. But, he decided that if he didn't want any more ribbing from the cocky kid, he'd tell Ezra what he wanted to know, who brightened even more when Sabine took the seat right beside him. Their relationship had taken a turn for the cozier ever since he'd returned from his topsy-turvy exploit with Hondo Ohnaka.

"Is this a private briefing?" Sabine asked, shifting gazes between Rex and Ezra.

The Commander noticed how conspiratorial she looked, which wasn't a stretch; she usually did. As though she had a mind to take on the Empire all by herself. Her weapons expertise was one of the reasons all of them were still alive as it was.

Moodily, Ezra breathed, "Not really," but looked the part, and Rex just smiled.

"Then why are you whispering?" Sabine challenged, yet thinking her not-so-secret admirer looked cuter than any guy she'd ever known when he looked the way he looked now, all on edge and brimming with curiosity. "If I hadn't come in, what would you two be discussing?"

"I was just about to tell young Ezra here how I know Quarrie," Rex decisively divulged, all too eager to see Sabine's lovely face go all inquisitive.

"Good, because if he hadn't asked, I was going to. He's quite the engineer, and his Blade-Wing saved those miners on Ibaar."

"And us too," Rex interjected, his voice listful.

"Don't forget Captain Hera and her unbelievable piloting skills," Ezra eagerly cut in. He knew what a great pilot she was, but Hera had shown them all just how brilliant she truly could be, destroying that Imperial cruiser and flying rings around the rest of the Empire's evil fleet.

Scowling, but doing so enticingly, at him, Sabine mildly scolded, "Of course not. Of course not." She emphasized, "We have our very own Phoenix Squadron Leader to thank too. Captain Hera Syndulla, PSL." The pride resounding in her voice was affecting as the males with her nodded. She got Rex back on track with her enigmatic little smile men always found captivating. "So, what's the deal with you and Quarrie?" The short, reddish brown Mon Cala was a genius as far as the Mandalorian was concerned, a starfighter mechanic the Rebellion sorely needed if it hoped to defeat the Empire, the archenemy of the galaxy.

Rex ended the suspense, but before he did, he asked Chopper, who had since joined them, to go hunt him up more grisling juice. The feisty droid 'quarked' that he would, but wanted to stick around for what Rex had to say, first. Rex decided he'd give his audience the abbreviated version of the Mon Cala and his first encounter. Clearing his throat, which had gone very dry by now, CT-7567 began, "A nomadic Mon Calamari and this retired captain walk into a cantina on Seelos, strike up a comradery…and the rest is friends-for-life history."

Scrunching up her nose at Rex, Sabine ventured, "That sounds like a very pared down version of the story." She knew short and sweet, and 'I'd rather not get into it' when she heard it.

"Aw, c'mon, Rex. You can do better than that," Ezra grumbled like Zeb when the rugged Lasat was having a bad day.

"Maybe I'd be more inclined to elaborate if a certain mechanical someone would go get me my juice—first," Rex pointedly stipulated, giving Chopper the ol' needling eye.

The droid, about to protest that he was no one's slave, was beaten to the punch when Sabine and Ezra jumped up. He grabbed his empty mug, with Sabine promising that they'd find whatever was left. Since they had developed a keen liking for the juice too, they hoped there was a little left in the pantry. If not, both wondered if they could convince Rex to tell them more if they brought him some fizzy Lasatian ale instead, if Zeb would part with some. He liked hoarding his favorite drink, which Rex liked second to grisling.

Chopper expressed his desire to wait with Rex as the teens barreled out of Rex's quarters. When they came back empty-handed, after about an hour or so, their dejected facial expressions didn't make Rex more sympathetic. The only further thing he told them was: "To be continued," and, sulking, they left him. Zeb had been fresh out of ale. He'd suggested giving Rex water, and the teens had told him no way was Rex going to say anything else with that wetting his whistle. As soon as the hatch of his cabin closed, he waited, then opened it again, seeing that the coast was clear. Afforded the opportunity, he made his way to Communications, with the droid at his heels, and it wasn't long before he contacted Quarrie.

"Hey, old friend, how goes it? They keeping you busy?" Rex cajoled. His eyes twinkling as he waited for the Mon Calamari to respond.

"I'm busier than I expected to be, but it's for a good cause…"

"The best cause. The Empire are losers and it's up to us to drive that home," Rex insisted. "I'm checking in, just to check with you, knowing the private person you are. I need a favor."

A little static got in, but when it cleared, Quarrie's voice came through loud and effectively. "I'm less private than I used to be these days. What's this leading up to? What's the favor that's on the tip of your tongue?"

"The kids, Sabine and Ezra, they want to know how we know each other. Would you object to my telling them?"

Silence at the end of the transmission didn't hold much promise that Quarrie would honor Rex's petition…until, "I wouldn't. Not at all. If there is one thing I've learned since throwing in with these Rebels," he spluttered, "it's if we are going to ultimately win this fight, being open, honest and broad-minded, unlike the Empire, is the way to go. Don't hold back. If I were there I wouldn't. I've got nothing to hide."

Sighing in satisfaction, thanking him, Rex heard in the noisy background that Quarrie was urgently needed by someone with a booming voice. "Thanks, Quar, I'll see you when I see you."

"Make that soon. I could use your opinion. The B-Wing's current development is undergoing critical modification. Who better than you for a judgment call."

"Thanks. I'll be glad to lend a hand as soon as I can."

"Until then," Quarrie bade, "be well; stay safe."

"That I intend. I'll see you soon." No sooner had Rex ended the transmission, Sabine and Ezra were back in his face. They had snooped until they'd located him here. This time they had no intention of giving up so easily, both adopting stubborn poses, their arms crossed over their chests and their lower lips stuck out a mile. Chopper 'qlacked' at them and they glared at the pugnacious machine, who thought they were terrible with finding things. He knew where there was more grisling juice, but as he made to sail off, he halted dead in his tracks, remembering about Rex's being given permission to tell all.

When Rex told the bossy kids to have a seat because he had a long tale to tell, and yes, about Quarrie and him, speechless, the elated teens seated themselves, prepared to hang on Rex's every word. Once he got started, and was well into the telling, they began breathing normally again.

It wasn't until he was finishing up that Ezra erupted, "You saved his life!"

"And he saved mine." His eyes full of emotion, Rex paused, reflecting how he would always be indebted to the brave Mon Cala. Inhaling, he said, "Never let their soft-spokenness and gentle behavior fool you. They're formidable allies and we've got one of the best on our side."

Nodding in unison, Sabine and Ezra looked at each other with broad smiles as he remarked, "That's why we're gonna win. We're Rebels, and we've got the best people in this galaxy on the Light side to defeat the dumb Empire!"

Sabine, impulsively kissed his cheek, then joined Rex in applauding as Chopper whistled. "So, you're going to pay Quarrie a visit?" she asked, her arm linked with Ezra's.

Rex confirmed, "As soon as I can. He needs me. Any chance we could make a detour?"

Standing too, the teens looked at each other, then Sabine spoke. "Let's go tell Hera."

Ezra piped up, "I'm sure it'll be no problem dropping you off and we pick you up on the way back."

"Then," Rex rejoined, "let's go see…"

Last, but never least, Chopper brought up the rear as the party of four headed for the cockpit.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks to all who read, reviewed and supplied necessary correction to the boo-boos I've made along the way. You fellow SWR followers are the best!

* * *

Sabine...Sabine...Sabine...

Just when you think you know a person, said person pulls out a whole new repertoire from her bottomless bag of tricky baggage.

...

Ezra knew that if he never saw Sabine again life as he had known it up to this point would be impossible. Though that might have sounded melodramatic and sadly trite, it would be true. He had grown to love the feisty Mandalorian; that was his blessing as well as his curse. Regardless of how many times he had confessed his feelings for her, she was a pro at putting him off, telling him they were the best of friends. Possibly more…one day, that was a big possibly. But for now, keeping what they were to each other as it was, meant a lot less needless bother for them both.

Weren't their lives complicated enough owed to Empirical interference?

Both of them were young, with numerous choices to make still ahead of them. Why would he wish to tie himself down? The galaxy was filled with women, of whom he could have his pick. Sabine couldn't emphasize enough how good having choices was. She'd already made hers; battling against and ultimately winning the war came first.

When she had used the word _bother_, it had sent Ezra's spirits nosediving. Was that how she actually saw him as, a pest? Someone so unworthy? Hadn't he'd already shown her just how much he cared for her to treat him as though he would never matter?

_Knuckle down_, he advised himself. Perhaps if he had been concentrating more as he'd clung to the departing shuttle, he would not have been picked off so easily like a Womp rat in Beggars Canyon. So here he was, stuck on Corellia, agonizing over Sabine's unsettling disappearance in that shuttle. Her long-lost shadow from her past, Ketsu hot on her trail. Ketsu Onyo, the mystery bounty hunter, who had tried ambushing them in that hangar. Sabine had once been one too? _That explains so much_, he thought again for as many times. Why did intrigue dog Sabine like Banthas loved mowing down Sand People? Maybe he should have continued quizzing Sabine about her past more than he had thus far. Ezra sat on the Phantom's boarding ramp, contemplating his struggling love life while he waited for Hera. She said that Kanan was scanning the last space the shuttle Sabine had stolen and Ketsu's ship had occupied before jumping. Forlorn and despondent, Ezra raised his eyes as far as he could to glimpse a meager wedge of lofty cerulean sky. Where could his reluctant ex-bounty hunter sweetheart be? Was she all right? If he were a fool for caring, so be it.

He would always care. Even if she kept kicking him in the teeth with her callous digs and insults, it wouldn't faze him. Didn't she do most of that because deep down she was covering up how she really felt about him? She was the girl of his dreams and the woman of his future. How could he show her she wouldn't be sorry for getting involved with him the way he wanted them to be involved? It wasn't going to be easy, that was for sure. Sabine was as stubborn as she was heavenly. Wanting what he wanted added to the plight his emotions had put him.

Being in love was supposed to be fantastic, as if the galaxy was yours for the taking? Then, why did he feel so out-of-control, so much more helpless and confused every time Sabine rolled her unfathomable eyes and curled her seductive lips at him? Then had no problem telling him to act his age, not his shoe size when he would tell her how pretty she looked. According to her, he needed to pull his head out of the clouds, plant his feet on solid ground, whenever they were on solid ground and focus on why they lived the way they did, championing the greater good.

And not catering to personal whims.

Kanan had once said some women liked being hard to get. Well, if that was Sabine's intention, he would show her he was a man who was hard to shake. He wasn't giving up to show her just what he was made of. He was the embodiment of determination that had no idea what quitting meant.

An abrupt shout from Hera snapped him out of his moody musings. As she bounded from the _Phantom_, she barked again, "One of the ships has been picked up, heading to us."

Hoping as he had never hoped before, Ezra blurted, "Is it Sabine?"

"The ship's Mandalorian. That's all we know."

Uncertain whether he should cheer or lament, he sighed, looking relieved suddenly. Why else would the ship be returning here if _she _weren't aboard, alive, not delivered up to the Empire for a reward? Ezra winced, wondering if that reward still applied if Sabine were no longer alive and mercenary Ketsu had the EG-86 Gonk binary droid all set to collect her earnings from the Black Sun. But first, she'd come back to gloat before lightspeeding off to the Empire.

Such troubling thoughts whirling willy-nilly in his head caused Ezra to sway, his legs wobbly in comparison to how badly his heart beat. He thrust out a shaky hand to the _Phantom_ for support, steadying himself as Hera sprinted to the landing spacecraft.

It wasn't long before two feminine forms emerged from the vessel with their blast helmets still on. His heart beating savagely in his chest, Ezra streaked to the figure he knew best and threw his arms around it, sorely carried away. Into Sabine's elegant shoulder, inches from her ear, he exulted, "I thought I'd never see you again." He hugged her fiercely, it being a living demonstration of what she was never going to live down, Ezra's slavish devotion. Hearing her wheeze inside her suit, he loosened his grip, not ending it entirely. "Next time I'll be sure not to get blasted loose from an ascending ship and left behind."

Music to his ears, Sabine unabashedly admitted, "I really could have used your help. Is that a promise?"

"You bet it is," he vowed gleefully, restraining himself from scooping her up into his arms and dancing around the hangar with her like some spacer hopped-up on Rx stimulus, a powerful, illegal narcotic on Bauulet. When she took off her helmet and gave his scarred cheek a coddling kiss, Ezra soared beyond the confines of the stuffy, paltry, hangar not about to come back down to Garel any time soon.

_Focus_, he reminded himself. Oh, he was; on how good it was having her back. Going forward, regardless of the circumstances, he'd be her shadow whether she liked that or didn't. His personal mission was to see to it that he stuck close to her, regardless.

Going with the feeling because Ezra knew he should, scooping her up into his arms swiftly came next.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," Sabine whispered back as he set her down. Who was he? Surely not the same; the change in him nearly palpable. In the back of her mind, the thought had plagued her that maybe he hadn't survived the fall from that impossible height. He was tough, had such heart. When would she admit to him how much he meant to her too?

Ezra never budged from her side. "That makes two of us. But I can tell you." His smile wasn't as shy, not now. "I'm delighted, and relieved to see you. I was worried sick. You know that thing about Inquisitors…"

"What thing?" Sabine queried, wishing she could read his mind. A first.

"They come in twos. That's how it's going to be with you and me. Where you go, I go too." The set of his jaw and the tenacity embedded in his eyes indicated how much he meant that. More softly, he capped, "Yeah?"

Flinging her arms at him, snagging him by his neck, Sabine nodded. "Yeah…" Which she meant with all her heart.


	14. Chapter 14

Excited to head out for his new mission, Ezra sighed, not wanting to be a spoilsport, but impatient to get to Sato and his crew aboard the blockade runner. He'd volunteered and Captain Hera had faith that he could handle the new assignment she had recommended him for, lending his special talents. He was becoming quite the capable Padawan learner, according to Kanan. His powers were strengthening daily, his confidence in what he could do growing under his master's tutelage.

"Can I look now?" Ezra asked Sabine, who led him along, saying very little, other than they were near to where she was taking him. If he peeked beneath the blindfold she'd placed over his eyes, and she caught him at it, he knew he would upset her. The last thing he wanted. Maybe if he tilted his head back far enough, the cloth over his eyes might slip far enough so he could sneak a peek.

"What's this big surprise?" the cocky teen demanded, although liking the firm grip Sabine had of his right hand as she towed him. Strong women were his thing he was realizing, whenever this beauty insisted that he toe the line.

"Not telling. You'll see for yourself…soon."

The fingers of his hand squeezed her hand back. Thrilled, he anticipated what she could have in mind, like say…extreme privacy for being with her alone so their feelings for each other could be freely expressed. _The Ghost_ didn't lend itself for close encounters of the romantic kind, if that was what his on-again, off-again unofficial girlfriend had in mind. Maybe thinking of Sabine as his girlfriend was stretching it. The knots in his stomach were on fire. Kissing Sabine senseless as she sighed his name spurred him on. The way his heart banged against his ribs, one might have thought the Mandalorian was already at it.

Making sure the coast was clear, Sabine hustled Ezra aboard the stolen Imperial shuttle, her destination: the cockpit where her surprise awaited. Rumor was, if Ezra and the rebels aboard the runner should run into trouble on their mission of discovering what had happened to a missing patrol ship, Kanan and Rex would be the ones to come to the rescue. Having thought ahead, Sabine arranged for an added incentive that would, supportively, cement the iffy bond between the men, who still had some ground to cover before they could be thought of as being friends.

"Have a look!" Sabine stood by her latest handiwork, beaming like a Hutt with a full belly.

Ripping off the blindfold, Ezra got an eyeful. His bemused expression wasn't exactly a glowing endorsement. "Is this the surprise?"

"Yeah," she fired back definitively. The pride she took in her work came naturally. She was thoroughly pleased with how the mural had turned out. She'd captured the zest and ardor of the warriors clad in snow white armor perfectly. She was good, but got little recognition from her teammates, although Chopper liked to wave his wands excitedly to show how much he appreciated her stylistic creations, even though he was just a droid. It used to be Ezra who never tired of praising her work. His enthusiasm had worn off owed to Sabine's lukewarm reaction to his mushy overtures. "What do you think?" Giving him a gentle verbal nudge in the right direction, she boosted, "Not bad, huh."

His shrugging slight, he pulled on his chin, deciding he would make a big deal in spite of how he felt. Why not press his advantage? In the dim cockpit, she and he could have a scorching romp. Abruptly then, he chastised his overzealous imagination. _One step at a time_, he knocked, _and those steps better be careful. She'll tell me to nerf off and I'm back at square one_.

"Not bad at all," Ezra commended, reaching out to finger Rex's caricatured beard and Kanan's accurately-drawn nose. She had made his master taller than Rex, or did it appear that way? The pin-up boys just had to like the way she had them poised for battle, victory theirs. "Where am I? Why just them?"

"Oh…" As her voice trailed, Sabine frowned. Including him had never occurred to her. She thought fast, then apologetically covered, "'Cause it's just those two. The dynamic duo if the need arises for them to jump into action. You have your own mission. But I couldn't splash the runner. With all those crewmembers crawling aboard Sato's ship, I never would have been able to pull off a sneak painting attack. You know how touchy those hard-core rebels are. They think we're kind of flaky even though Hera was made Captain."

"But, I'd still like for you to paint me." Pouting, he complained, "You said you were gonna do one of me. Did you just say that to shut me up?"

Hooking her hands at her waist, her arms akimbo, Sabine countered, "No. I don't promise things I have no intention of keeping."

"Then, when do you paint me?" His jutted chin and forlorn eyes, which begged that putting him off in other ways was unacceptable too, won him his case.

"Once your mission is over, come see me," Sabine offered in appeasement.

"The biggest reason I said I'd go with Sato is to ditch Kanan's and Rex's constant going at each other." He scuffed his foot against the deck plating, then looked up at Sabine again. "Come with me. Remember…we promised we'd stick with each other. When I volunteered, I thought you would too. Why didn't you?"

She did what wasn't like her by taking Ezra's hand and cupping it with both of hers. "When we promised that, we were very emotional at the time. Realistically, some missions call for us to be apart. To ensure the success of the operation. We wouldn't want to be responsible for ruining a mission, would we?"

"No—of course not!" he exclaimed, aware of how grown up he had sounded. "No weak links here!" Thanks to Kanan and this crew, adopting him, having shown him that he was worth their attentive ministrations.

Sabine smiled and Ezra's heart did the crashing against his ribs thing again. Sounding sure of him, and of herself, she continued, "Can you handle our being apart so we can accomplish the greatest good when necessary, Ez?"

If he couldn't, would that lessen him in her eyes? He wasn't about to take that chance. "I can, if you can."

"Good answer." She edged closer to him, happy to see that he just wasn't saying what she wanted to hear. Clarity of purpose shone in his eager eyes. The eagerness was laced with something else, she knew, but before she indulged him, there was something special he must see. "So…you like the little sendoff surprise for Kanan and Rex." She hadn't asked; she'd stated.

"Yes. It's really good." If she wanted to hear how much he liked it, he'd tell her as many times as she needed to hear that. Being crazy about her translated into being crazy about her passion.

"There's an extra personal touch I think you should see," Sabine dangled.

"Oh yeah, like what?"

She pointed to the lower left-hand corner of the mural then tapped its delicately curlicued signature encompassed by a little stylized glossy red heart. Her name, joined with his with a simple ampersand, jumped out at him.

"Sabine and Ezra," he fondly read off. He stared at what she'd written for a long while before he could say anything else. When he finally dragged his eyes up to her face, he saw her watching him, looking thoughtful. "Like…does this mean?" He didn't know quite how to put it so it wouldn't sound as though he was assuming too much. Was this her way of letting him know the idea of their being a couple wasn't unthinkable? He really meant something to her other than being a nuisance?

As she moved in to run her fingers through his hair, Sabine said through a sigh, "If we aren't actually together, we always will be in spirit." Her wink held his gaze a bit longer and she moved to place a lingering kiss on his scarred cheek, the one her ointment hadn't been able to heal. This was how she wanted their budding relationship to proceed. He had thought it should go full speed ahead. But, a more mature way of seeing things her way had taken root. Her notion wasn't complicated. _If after we really get to know each other we're good. Then, we're good._ Did he get that? Could he accept her terms?

Picking up on her cue, Ezra carefully molded his hand to her elegant neck; the skin so soft and warm it accelerated the pulse in his fingers. "Like when I'm on this mission, and things get tough 'cause they always do, I'll know you'll be thinking of me, which will help get me through it so I can get back to you." His voice wistful, he promised, "I'll be thinking about you too."

Resting her hand over his, Sabine nodded and confirmed, "And the Force will guide you, make it possible for you to see me, right?"

He thought about that. Though nothing like that had happened yet, he would ask Kanan if something like that was possible. For now, he humored, "Uh…I guess." She nodded and he did too. He wondered if he would ever know everything there was to know about the mystery that flowed and bound up the galaxy. "The Force is awesome. Sure, why not?"

"I wish I knew more about what you're trying to master."

_She wishes she knew more_, Ezra rued, looking deeply into his reluctant object of his affection's hypnotic eyes. Optimistic, he said, "Maybe I can sort of fill you in once I'm better at handling it."

Sabine heard how sincere he was, turning her head just in time for his swift kiss of her hand she made to extract from his. He surrendered it without a fuss, figuring he'd leave her wanting more. Wasn't that how it worked? Well, he supposed so.

"Sato's waiting," she reminded while studying his bemused face.

"Yep. Gotta go. Hey, thanks for what you did with our names." Boyishly, Ezra grinned, waiting for her to go ahead of him as they vacated the shuttle cockpit.

"From now on, that's how it'll be whenever I do a painting." She held off, then decided why not tell him. "Since I've met you, you've really inspired me to go bolder with my art."

That was the greatest thing she had ever told him, and beside himself, he snagged her arm, gently tugging her to himself for a genial hug. "Sabine, you're the best!"

As he squeezed her tight, she admitted, "I'm not _that_ all by my lonesome y'know. You're with me, and we're with our crew, remember?"

Ezra and she tumbled out of the shuttle arm-in-arm, making sure they avoided any spying eyes that might have been seeing more than they should. "We are. All the way!"

After a final hug, he sped off, hustling to get himself aboard Sato's runner.

…

Well, Hera, as always, having had a feel for what could happen was proven right. Some time later, Ezra and the crew of the runner, had been captured, needing to be rescued. Immediately, she told Kanan and Rex to go into action, take the stolen Imperial shuttle, save their brethren. Her heart pounding in her chest, she clamored, "Leave at once—get our friends."

And so, lingering no longer, the mismatched pair donned the purloined Stormtrooper armor and hurried aboard the shuttle. Kanan would have preferred having Zeb with him, but Hera had been insistent that Rex go. Once aboard the shuttle, the Jedi took one look at Sabine's latest artist feat and groaned, "I don't know why she keeps doing that."

Chuckling, Rex offered, "To set the mood, I suppose. You must admit, she's got talent." Kanan sniffed, turning away from the impressive mural; one of her better ones, Rex judged. When Kanan heard the older man exclaim, "Well, would you look at that!" the Jedi faced around.

"Look at what?"

"Here, in this corner. Very interesting…to say the least. Have a look for yourself."

Casting Rex a cynical look, Kanan casually inspected what was surprising to the bearded man. Kanan's critical eyes filled with wonder as a strange expression settled into his face. He mouthed the words, "Sabine and Ezra," which sounded as though to himself while scratching his head." The glossy shininess of the red heart was like a bolt between the eyes. "She put that on this?"

"She must have. It's her writing." Rex slapped his armor-clad thigh. "Looks like we've got a budding romance on our hands with those kids."

Not wishing to believe that, Kanan snidely imparted, "Let's hope not. That's the last thing any of us need."

"I know what you're thinking, but I think they complement each other. Like moon and star shine."

"Don't start," Kanan objected.

Just what he didn't need right now, a sappy ex-Clone war veteran. Ezra had more than enough to focus on without some ill-conceived involvement with Sabine to gum it up. Perhaps the time for 'the talk' about a Jedi's avoidance of attachments had come, while at the same time a voice within Kanan shot him down. What would he call his feelings for Hera? Avoidance? Hardly… Clearing his throat with a forced 'ahem,' he said as he turned back to the piloting seats, "If we're doing this, let's go."

Filled with mirth as he plunked himself down in the seat next to Kanan, Rex tossed, "Well…you know what they say. 'There's no harm in taking a deep breath when love is in the air.'"

"I've never heard that said _anywhere_," Kanan resisted, with a 'humph,' raising the spacecraft once it had gone through its preparedness for flight cycles.


	15. Chapter 15

Alora was her name, the cute, little darling, and driving poor Ezra nuts was her game. Not that she knew she was. Though the Force-sensitive child couldn't form sentences, it was clear who her favorite member of the _Ghost_ crew was. Chopper held out the makeshift feeding bottle to the raven-haired kid under Sabine's watchful eyes. The Mandalorian sat on the hold's couch not saying much, too in awe of the spectacle that was Ezra preparing to feed this beautiful baby as if he had a shuttle-full of his own. Holding her firmly in his arms, quietly, he cooed her name and Alora got all wide-eyed, appearing transfixed, as she drilled into the lad's eyes.

"Look at her...like she's yours," Sabine murmured, thoughtful and impressed. "Amazing," she let slip. Alora, as she gazed happily into Ezra's face, snuggled some more against him. Sabine had to hand it to her sweetheart; he wasn't shabby with this adorable baby.

As Ezra jiggled the bottle away from a resourceful Chopper, squirming Alora gummed her lower lip. "Hope you like this..." The 'this' being reconstituted freeze-dried yamma milk, the next closest thing to a female moilka's milk from Chandel. Unfazed, he smiled down into her face and patiently waited for the baby to take the soft, makeshift nipple into her precious little mouth. Gratified when Alora did, Ezra threw Sabine an unbridled look of satisfaction. "Not bad, huh?" Unable to keep this to himself, he blurted, "It isn't easy being irresistible."

"And you'd know, because?" she playfully teased. Sabine leaned into him, and with her eyes on the guzzling infant, whispered, "The Force knows the Force, huh, Spectre Six?"

"I guess it's something like that. Kanan says Force sensitives are Forcefuls. As far as I understand it, we're highly attuned to the flow of the Force. He seems to think Alora has great potential." He shrugged just a little, not wanting to disturb the feeding infant.

"Like you," Sabine broke in, always letting her interest in his unique abilities shine through.

"Well…what can I say?" Ezra responded, blanketing his tone in modesty. Despite his intentions, he shivered involuntarily, thinking thoughts that unsettled him. Slowly he gave voice to them. "Kids like these are in great danger."

Sabine murmured, "Again, like you."

Comprehension replaced ambiguity; the revelation overwhelming. "It's up to us to protect them."

"We're trying. You don't have to volunteer for every mission, y'know." But, realistically, she knew how unrealistic that was. Each time they tried to help in any way, their lives were on the line. Wasn't that what self-sacrifice was all about?

"We'll be okay. We're always very careful…and, well, maybe I see it this way because I want to, but the Force seems to be on our side. The side that's right." His large grin was powerful testimony that being needed by the helpless fueled his emotions. His laughter broke out. "I hadn't given all the stuff we're up against much thought until now. Like me being a father someday." As his heart soared with anticipatory paternity, Alora gurgled. "I think I'd make a great dad."

Squinting at Ezra sideways, while stroking the tot's capped head, Sabine posed, "So, what is it then? Being a Jedi, or a father? From what Kanan says, it really can't be both." Her index finger traveled to the baby's rosy cheek, rubbing it gently. "This one's a living doll." Never having seriously contemplated being a mother herself, wistful, Sabine gazed at Alora, feeling very maternal all of a sudden. To her, she tenderly spoke in sing-song, "Hush-a-bye. If you cry, lightsabers flashing will dry your eyes."

"I bet I can be _both_." Liking that ditty too, Ezra chuckled and watched in fascination as the heart-stealing little one tugged on the finger he had extended. "You sure eat a lot." The bottle was halfway done and still Alora guzzled away. Her eyes glinting, she pulled harder on the nipple as though she had only just begun feeding. It wasn't long before a tiny burp escaped from her, which made the teens fawn over her more than they already were, all caught up in her sweet mystique. Impetuously, Ezra complained in a sharp, explosive breath, "I do want kids and be a Jedi too!"

"You, with…" Her frown was majestic. "You did say kids, like in more than one?"

"Yeah, that's right. I did. There's nothing wrong with that. I'll make a great father." He gave no thought to his ups and downs, mostly downs, with Pipey. With a sigh, and a shake of his head, he held his tongue, a bit embarrassed now. When his emotions flowed, they did like a raging river.

"Sounds ambitious," Sabine whisked in, losing herself in Alora's diminutive, innocent eyes, their innocence weighing on her heavily. How dare the Empire task those diabolical Inquisitors with rounding up defenseless little babies such as this to turn them to evil! Use them like freakish thralls! "We're fighting for so much more than ourselves. These helpless ones really need us to protect them."

"Don't you worry," Ezra promptly assured, addressing Alora as much as he was Sabine. "We're not letting anybody down. As long as Kanan, Ahsoka, me and all others led by the Force's Light Side are in the fight, we'll make sure none of these kids fall into the wrong hands, trying to corrupt them." Imagining this precious child in an Inquisitor's clutches turned him inside out, driving him to search his feelings like never before. His heart clenched at the touch of Sabine settling her hand gently atop his thigh. Alora must have sensed his agitation and began whimpering. Feeling that he'd slipped up, shame claimed him. "Shh, shush…I'm sorry. I won't upset you again. Promise. Don't—no, don't…" Ezra contorted his face, wanting its tender expression just right. "I didn't mean to provoke you, Cutie." Whatever he felt, she did too. What part of 'Force sensitive' didn't he get? She was just a baby, not knowing one thing about training. Alora stopped fretting instantaneously to resume her dedicated feeding. Cooing her name, he rippled with good vibes. When Ezra smiled, Alora's smile blossomed behind the nipple. "That's right, Cutie, don't stop until it's all gone. All gone…all gone."

He, evoking whatever latent maternal feelings she possessed, Sabine looked on in contentment. "I have to admit, you do seem to have a way with her." She leaned her long torso over, bending to center her kiss on the baby's forehead. "Her mother gets her back. That's what matters." Little did Sabine know that Alora's grandmother had withdrawn from her daughter and husband. Sadly, the distraught woman blamed herself for her granddaughter's capture.

"Like I said to the baby Ithorian, maybe they can come live on Garel with us." Pipey had been easier to manage after Ezra had said that.

"All the known Force-sensitives? How could we possibly pull that off?" Sabine asked, her eyes as round as saucers.

"That's something for the Rebel leaders to decide then, but guarding these kids makes lots of sense to me. It's mandatory." Several burps later, Ezra had Alora over his shoulder, alternately patting and rubbing her back. She had emptied the bottle, and with her stomach full, gas was plentiful. "That's right, Cutie. Get them all out." Listening to the baby's gentle breaths lulled him into a semi-fixated state. Sabine joined him, resting her head on his shoulder. All was peaceful and calm until Kanan's decisive command for Ezra to meet with him to resume more complex lightsaber drills pitched the dreamy babysitter out of his delirium. "Guess I gotta go." Mincing no further words, he handed Alora off to Sabine. "I won't be long."

His departure did not sit well with Alora, who began fussing and fretting, preferring Ezra's arms to Sabine's thin, less inviting ones.

"She doesn't want me, she wants you." Dismayed, the Mandalorian cast Ezra a frazzled look. _So much for the joys of motherhood_, Sabine thought, feeling for the squalling child, probably crying for its real mother.

"I can't juggle her in one hand and my lightsaber in the other."

"I know," Sabine concurred, waiting for him to suggest something that involved quieting Alora, who by this time was caterwauling, as though having a panic attack. "Think of something," Sabine urged, yelling over the mind-wrenching noise. Did anyone ever get used to this racket?

Munching his lower lip, but looking as though he was in control, Ezra snatched Alora backed into his arms and told the explosives expert, "C'mon. You're with me."

"For what?" Sabine arched, obediently following on Ezra's heels as he raced to the appointment with Kanan.

Over his shoulder, Ezra partially filled her in. "I'll think of something when we get there."

Chopper, always hating to be left behind, tagged along, venting in his usual heated style, as he went.

As his lightsaber arced high above his head, Ezra winked at Alora, then at Kanan. Sabine coddled the enchanted baby as the combined talent of the Jedi had them suspended in the air, close to the field of action. "Watch this, Alo, one day you'll be doing the same thing." Ezra parried Kanan's compelling thrust as though he had been at this since the day he'd been born. The plucky teen's mastery was a silent testament to his mentor's teaching abilities.

"You're getting there," Kanan awarded, double spinning back into place.

Cutie-pie Alora writhed in Sabine's possessive grasp. Precious, unintelligible blather bubbled forth from her Cupid's-bow lips. And then startling speech stumbled out, shocking them all. Ezra, most of all.

"D-da-da-da-da!" With arms waving wildly, Alora shot hers out at the flabbergasted teen and wasn't happy until she was in his arms once more. Ezra warmed to her insistence over time. Her cries rang in his receptive ears. "Da-da! Da-da!" The wee wriggling empress had spoken, and she meant every syllable of it as her infant heart beat faster than the humming wings of many Alothsian birds. Her heartbeat echoed in the practice area.

Ezra was filled with an overwhelming desire to keep this child from harm at all costs, his resolve curled within him. He released breath steadily as tranquility bathed him as his heart thrummed. Frustrations and tensions dissipated like mist in sunlight.

Beaming, Kanan repeated what he truly believed, "The heart of a warrior, that one has. Mark my words."

And Ezra, his hopes and desires furiously propelling him, couldn't help thinking that perhaps, if all lined up well, he might be her Master.

Purpose and conviction were addictive.


	16. Chapter 16

Zeb had wanted none of Ezra's ranting, preferring the hold's common room to the fitful teen's outcries. He slept now, deep sleep had proven stronger than mere dozing.

Kanan never let him down and the Jedi had so much to wade through, it was a wonder he made time for Ezra a priority. But he did, time and time again. They had had many talks since the incident on Lothal. The Force had provided closure, of a sort. But, his feelings were far from settled and they'd become intensified. So much still remained so open-ended. How had his parents died? Though he wanted to know, he feared knowing. And the dreams of his parents imprisoned in an Imperial cell bombarded him. Fragmented images made him toss and turn. And Kanan would tirelessly caution him not to rely too heavily on conceptions presented to him by the Force.

In his bunk, the young Padawan tossed and turned, struggling with muted impressions shaded by mystery. The enigmatic bearded man, again, wielding a lightsaber barred his way. From some faraway corner, what sounded like a woman crying reached his ears. Then that same sound became a voice, a voice very much like Sabine's, telling him that the Imperial fleet was closing in. Cries of 'no surrender' blanketed the air as droids became snow white Imperial troops. Engulfed in the heart of his mind, the beset teen thrashed and cried out, "They'll never take us alive!"

He saw his parents and they came to stand at his side. His father appeared younger, but his mother, much older. In unison, their voices mingle with those of his new family. Hera, Kanan, Zeb, even Chopper crowd around him. Where was Sabine?

Ezra wrinkled his brow, still deep in sleep as the only thing he thought to do was find her before she too suffered the same fate as his parents.

"Sabine, Sabine," he wailed, fearing the worst. She's gone, never coming back because she'd been captured by Imperials and they'll do the same to her as they'd done to his folks. Kill her! Still fast asleep, he leaped to his feet, ready to take on the dark hordes all by himself. He has taken down Kallus and his combative escorts before. How good it had felt when he had Force propelled the sneaky blond man into the wall. Beating back Imperials never got old. Why should it in a dream?

Sabine was still missing, and Ezra tore through the deserted streets of Lothal bent on finding out where they were holding her, before the enemy took her off world. Out of the wispy mist of his foggy brain, Inquisitors, the Fifth Brother and Seventh Sister swarmed in, intent on rushing him into a losing battle. They jeered him, taunted his abilities, but Ezra refused to listen.

"Come on then, my brave, young boy," the Seventh Sister repeated. "Come and prove it."

Descending to their level was beneath him. Igniting his lightsaber, Ezra, undaunted, charged at the deadly pair. They were holding Sabine; to get to her, he must get through them. So he went at them, holding nothing back, the lessons Kanan has tried to teach him at the back of his mind. But, just as before, Kanan was there, doing what he'd done when this hadn't been a dream. He blasted the controls of the blaster doors so they would bang into place, shut, cutting opponents off from defenders. Even in his dreams, the Dark side would entice, when his passions fueled his impulsive actions. And as the gist of what he felt ebbs, he heard his Master say, "I know what it's like to lose someone close and not have anyone." His voice caught in his throat, his emotions running high. "When I lost my Master, I was alone. Regardless of how this turns out, I don't want you to be. You won't be alone as long as you have _us_."

But they weren't all there-Sabine wasn't with them. Where was she? Was she...she...dead?

He surveyed the rooftops of a blighted Capital City where he had learned to survive alone once. On his way to what was his parents' dwelling, he has a bad feeling. The home was burned to the ground and his despair surmounted. His father, mother, and now Sabine-dead! All was too much for him and his sorrow might have finished him, if it were not for Kanan telling him to listen to the Force.

Again, the white Loth-cat appeared and they followed, keeping up with the darting creature as only Jedi could. Mountains loomed large before Ezra's wide eyes and Prisoner X's sniper fire whizzed past them. "I'm the son of Mira and Ephraim Bridger," Ezra rang out and the former Governor of Lothal ceased firing. No sooner are they seated inside Ryder Azadi's makeshift hut, Ezra barraged him with questions about his parents and the Manda woman he loves.

"They are dead," Azadi's confirmed here too, his voice breaking the tomb-like silence.

"What about Sabine?" Ezra shrieked.

"Who?" the ex-Governor hooted, at a loss as to who, or what, a Sabine is.

"Sabine Wren," he brayed louder, with Kanan's hand coming to rest on his apprentice's shoulder.

"Ezra-wake up!" his teacher insisted.

"I, I am awake," the feisty young Jedi objected, converting his bunk into a wild ride. "Where is Sabine!" Ezra bellowed, looking like something left for dead on Lothal.

"Ezra-" The sharp voice was incisive, authoritative, nothing unusual about that. A relief for him to hear.

"Sabine! Y-you're n-not dead!" Sitting bolt upright in his bunk, Ezra stared at her with crazy eyes, their aspect lessening in intensity. "The Imperials didn't ge you!"

"Nope, and if we have our way, and survive, they never will," she bit off. When Sabine hopped up into his bunk to ease her arm around her unsettled, no longer secret admirer, Kanan patted the kid's leg.

"Sounds to me like these dreams of yours are taking over your life. We can't have that."

"I was dreaming?" Ezra wanted to believe Kanan, but he held belief back. How could something so real not be? Sabine holding him tight was real though; so was the concern in her unwavering eyes.

"Yeah, you were. We're going to have to do something about it." Running a hand through his hair, Kanan trained his eyes on his student. "As I said, the Force isn't a person. It's called the Force for a reason, which isn't always an accurate description of what it is."

Pointblank, Ezra fired off, "Then what is it then, really?" Anticipating a solid answer, Ezra held his breath.

With a shrug and a sigh, his Master half-heartedly enlightened, "It is, what it is...The Force." And with that bit of pop wisdom, Kanan sauntered off, expecting Ezra to draw his own conclusions for the time being.

Sabine, not doing so out of spite, or imagining herself as a wiseacre, snickered. "Get some sleep."

"Easier said than done." Thoughtful, he shyly asked, "Could you stay?"

She didn't move a muscle. "What bedtime story this time?"

Lying back down, he requested, "Chopper and the Hoth-cats..."


	17. Chapter 17

"Hey, Ezra, you've got a transmission." Zeb would only say it once; he wasn't in the habit of repeating himself unless there was food, or danger involved. The person contacting the kid was impressive, but fancy titles and the homage that was expected to be paid didn't impress him. She was a good person, and was a fierce warrior, which did impress him, so he tacked on, "From experience you know she doesn't like to be kept waiting."

A _she_? Now how many she's did he know in the galaxy, aside from the ones of his _Ghost_ family and the odd females he sort of knew could he readily count on one hand? Yeah, not that many. And not ones who had handy or reliable access to communication devices. "Who is she?" he eagerly questioned the Lasat; the warrior grunted, his voice echoed from far away.

"Answer and you'll find out."

So he dropped into the seat, having run all the way to the console, and did as Zeb suggested. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ezra, it's good to hear your voice, which means you're staying alive. One of the most valuable things to the Rebellion."

"Princess?" Ezra exclaimed, a surge of acceptance bathing him as his smile lit up his face. At that precise moment, Sabine turned up, stopping on her heels when she'd heard him squeal the title. The dignitary from Alderran was one tough cookie. And like a cookie, she had her sweet side. Or was that bittersweet? She was a true beauty, Sabine considered, all kinds of curious about why she would be contacting Ezra. A sneaking suspicion she had about that, had her stomach lurching.

No, not possible, she told herself, but couldn't drop it. Was it possible? Had hard-nosed, silver-tongued Leia taken a liking to her spunky puppy dog?

Sabine strained to hear what more was said…

"You sound surprised," Leia imposed with a sizeable kick in her authoritative voice.

His pulse racing, Ezra faltered, ruing his lack of poise and presence. Collecting his wits, he controlled his breathing, then made himself light up like his saber. "It's great hearing from you too. How goes the Rebellion at your end?"

She decided she'd banter with him a touch, answering to his high-pitched, inflected awe. "I wanted to expand some on that talk we had in the gunnery. Remember? You're such a good listener."

Remember? How could he forget? Despite her stature, she had spoken to him like an equal, like someone who understood exactly how he felt over the loss of his parents. She'd been genuine, through and through. Empathetic, with her kind expressions. Ezra settled, feeling more sure of himself. "Yeah. Sure, of course I do. I like what you said."

"Well, here's a bit more. We have something that affects you deeply in common, Ezra." Following her heavy, emotional sigh, she admitted with a sincerity that caught in her throat, "I lost my parents too. When I was just a baby."

"Huh? W-what? When you were just a baby?" Not understanding to the extent he needed to, Ezra, confused, voiced, "B-but, I thought Bail and Queen Breha Antilles-Organa are your parents."

After sighing heavily, Leia continued, "They are my adoptive parents. They took me in during the Clone Wars." The war that shredded the galaxy, changing it forever. "A Jedi by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi brought me to them. I could never have wanted better, more loving people as parents, but my real parents died. I'll never know who they were."

Deeper sadness embedded itself in Ezra's heart, it growing heavier. "I-I'm sorry, Princess, so sorry," the young, keen-minded orphan stammered, feeling her loss as much as he felt his all over again. "You never get over it," he said, misery staining each word. He longed for her being here with him right this moment. So he could, what? Wrap his arms around her to somehow comfort her in person? Have her feel just how much he felt sorry for her. He physically reacted, thudding in his seat. What a crazy thought, he thought, still wishing she were here.

The princess awed him. He couldn't explain it, but they had something, for lack of a better word, a bond? Not the kind he shared with Kanan, and certainly not Sabine, but something unalterable he didn't fully understand conjoined them. He had an idea that their cause was partly responsible, but there was more to it. Of that he felt sure. Just as he was sure Leia wouldn't warm to his pitying her, even if he convinced himself that she might be sympathetic.

"No, never. But, at least you knew yours some. I never knew mine." Much space separated them physically. Sounding distant in a figurative sense, she spilled, "I only have a beautiful, shadowy woman, whose sorrowful sighs, sobbing and constant outcries, haunt my torturing dreams. You're doing the right thing, Ezra, doing what they would be proud of. They live through you, being close to you, for what you fight for." Something kindred within Ezra had roiled as she related this amazing bit. Moving past their pain her poignant revelation brought on, this strong, compelling leader forged on. "Two things," she dangled, leaving Ezra hanging, bent on putting what she had on her mind just right.

"Yeah?"

"You never really came out and said you and Kanan are Jedi."

Hedging, Ezra admitted, "Uh, no. I know. We don't go around saying so right off. He's a real one. I'm just learning to be one. Couldn't you guess when you saw me mess up? If you hadn't blasted, I might have ended up gone, in one way or another." He unpretentiously added, "Kanan swears I have potential." Although, Ezra was having serious doubts when things went wrong at his end and he needed saving.

"Kanan judges correctly." Leia lavished honest praise on the skeptical teen. "You did great. You're fearless, resourceful, not one to be intimidated." Her voice took on an even more respectful tone. "Which leads me to hope that you'll grant me this humble request."

Sabine held her breath, willing her hearing to be superhuman.

"Physically join us, full-time, once we've officially established a Rebel base on a world we've yet to locate. One that will strategically and logistically serve our needs."

Dumbfounded, Ezra was at the profoundest loss of his young life. Royalty was asking him to do her a favor. Never would he have ever thought such a thing could happen. Woozy, Sabine shut her troubled eyes, irked at Leia and what her extended invitation might mean. Was this really happening? Why Ezra? Why not all of them? She tried not to feel the least bit jealous because feeling that way wasn't who she was. Ezra and she were close, but were they truly in love? Judging by the way she was feeling right now…maybe she had begun to feel about Ezra the way he felt about her. Did he still feel the same?

_Lay off, Leia_…Sabine grumbled internally.

Clearing his throat, he still couldn't answer. Being stunned usually had this effect on him. When he finally had words, Ezra purposely wanted to sound like the man he was trying so hard to become. A man exactly like his mentor. "I'll need some time to think your offer over, if that's okay, Princess. Can I get back to you?"

Not the answer she had hoped for, Leia frowned, but spoke gently over the link: "I realize it's a big decision. I'm asking if you'd leave your new family. Take all the time you need, Ezra. Thanks for even considering it." As she smiled, light years away, she unveiled, "May the Force be with you."

He nodded as he ran both hands through his long, shiny hair the color of ripe blueberries, found on Polfrun.

"And you as well," Ezra wished, bestowing his allegiance as well, before they signed off simultaneously.

Not a fluke, considering who and what they were, which Leia did not know about herself.

Before Ezra spied her, Sabine, dazed, dashed from the communications site, out of sight. Bent on getting to her quarters, she nearly gagged on the bile that had risen up, overpowering her. Its sharp sting swept into her tightening throat, as she ran blindly.

Would he leave her?


	18. Chapter 18

Sabine was acting all variations of crazy lately, it felt as if he hardly knew her. The tough Mandalorian, whom he deeply loved, had become this puzzling stranger, who was driving him nuts. Take for instance right now. Was she a whispering zephyr from going totally rogue? The thought rattled the Lothal youth. Dangerously close to it she was, Ezra judged, being as headstrong as was her habit. Kanan had made it perfectly clear that he was going to Concord Dawn _all by himself_.

True, they were a team, but sometimes, out of necessity, a team had to divide to conquer.

Well, Kanan was going solo, except for Chopper; the mechanized complainer yammered its head off about having to go. Despite his being a non-sentient, he hated being coerced. He'd slammed one of his worn wands into Ezra's shins, and had spewed some very impolite references to their mothers in caustic binary. Like it was his big idea to have the droid fly off into certain danger. Ezra wanted to go, but one look from Kanan had nixed that idea. The abuse the teen suffered at the whims of the cantankerous machine mounted day-by-day. This droid was getting too big for his couplings.

Now-this! Sabine, having this impossible plan of smuggling herself aboard the _Phantom_. Ezra admired her typical courage, but maligned her lack of wisdom and her firebrand tendencies. _When Kanan finds out, he'll blow his top_, Ezra couldn't help thinking as he stood with his girl, trying to talk her out of deliberately disobeying Kanan to place herself alongside him, in harm's way. True to form, Sabine was all for using force, the good old sense of the word, to drive the Protectors away from the planet. Kanan held the opinion that forming an alliance with the elite group of Mandalorian warriors was the way to go. His mission was one of recruitment; the Mandalorians needed to join the Rebellion. An idea which shouldn't have irritated Sabine, but did. Not all Mandalorians could be trusted.

Shaking his head, Ezra regarded her, as she prepared to depart, in the anteroom right before the approach to the smaller ship. Stumped, he was coming up empty, having run out of convincing arguments so she'd change her mind. A mind that she had resiliently made up, her course of action set in stone. Finding it hard to shake how gorgeous she was when she went into assault mode, he sighed. Her entire body language shouted how determined she was to show those Mandalorian renegades just what a member of Clan Wren, House of Vizsla was made of. Few women he knew would compel themselves to sneak onto their base, plant explosives to blow up their fighters.

"Sabine..."

She wasn't entirely dismissive of his hangdog bearing. Sighing softly too then, she initiated, "Look..."

Oh, he was, looking long and hard at her, more than a little surprised that she had let him in on her plan. She had been acting, aside from her other weirdness, very distant and cold to him. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why. Ever since their networking with the Princess, he had noticed a subtle difference in Sabine towards him, which made all the difference to him. And now, she had this score to settle with the snakes who had nearly murdered Hera. She was out for vengeance, opposed to anything that even hinted there be diplomacy. Just the mention of Fenn Rau's name elicited her ire.

"I just wanted to say..." He searched her face, which wore its impatience none too well.

"May the Force be with us. Yeah, yeah. Y'know, granted. Kanan means well, trying to keep Jedi philosophy alive in spite of their near extinction. But, more often than not, ruthless people need to learn a huge lesson, one that's never forgotten, when they go too far. It serves as a warning. I'm doing this for Hera!" With a stamp of her foot, that was that, in how she saw things. "You of all people should know that." Even if it wasn't the time, nor place to go there, Sabine did. "After what happened to your parents."

His spate of strong emotions made his delivery unsteady. "Yes, I know. You bet I know. It's what makes me committed to see this whole Rebel thing through. All I'm trying to say is...well, I..." Her striking eyes, vibrating with verve and intensity, had him gasping as he strained for coherence. "I-"

"You want to come along too?" That knowing look in her eyes was a challenge, one he knew he must back down from. This family already had one reckless teen; it didn't need two right now, if ever.

He had promised himself that he would, going forward, heed Kanan more than when he'd begun his training. Her stubborn foolhardiness put him to the test.

"I was going to say, _please_-be very careful. Don't do anything that gets you killed, okay? Fighting this fight without you wouldn't be the same. I want you coming back to me so we can continue this fight together. The way it's supposed to be."

Touched, more than her words might have conveyed, Sabine, forgetting about, what she called his infatuation with Leia, closed in on Ezra to lightly finger his mildly-scarred face. She felt partly responsible for the scars not fading completely as she had promised they would. Unfortunately, her salve she highly touted to work wonders had its limitations. Maybe if the wounds hadn't been so deep no marks would have been left. Lazily, her impish smile touched his heart and his lips scrunched to one side when she pulled him into her arms. The intensity of her goo-goo eyes made him dizzy, making his own shine.

"All right," Sabine cajoled. "Just '_this fight_' is all you want to continue?"

He smoldered in her fond, unyielding embrace and struggled to say, without stumbling over his tongue, which felt two-sizes too big, "So, we're okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" She probed him with scrutinizing eyes. _I'm here, have been all along, for you, for all of us_, Sabine internalized, squeezing him tighter. _The Princess isn't here; I am. Will be, as long as you want me_, she vowed.

"Just asking 'cause...well, you've been acting kind of like." Ezra fidgeted, looking as if he sat on pins and needles. "Like, uh...weird."

"Weird? Me? Me, weird?" Sabine squeaked, at a loss. What did he mean by weird? "What makes you say that?" He stopped just short of clearly spelling it out. He sensed Kanan's approach was imminent. Each solid, hurried footfall brought him nearer to the shuttle bay where the lovebirds communed. If Sabine didn't make a move quickly, she wouldn't be going along for the clandestine ride. "When I get back, you'd better explain what you mean by me being weird. Now, it's stashing myself in the crawlspace time. Gotta go." On pure impulse, she twined her arms about his neck and planted one swift kiss on Ezra's open mouth as he gasped in complete surprise.

"Watch yourself," he ordered, his voice an octave higher, halfway inside her titillating mouth, which bore a gentle essence of cinnamyrrh. _Delightful_, Ezra thought, loath to surrender her, and dreading what her absence meant for him. Time spent worrying and agonizing, pure torture.

"I will," she promised, pecking him on the cheek before she took off.

Long before Kanan, armed with his lightsaber and his resolve to make new friends, reached the _Phantom_, Sabine had herself tucked into the cramped covert, and Ezra had raced his way back to the command ship intent on observing the attack shuttle disappear into the vast, star-studded darkness of space.

As the _Phantom_ went into lightspeed, Ezra smoothly whispered, "May the Force be with you always, my love."


	19. Chapter 19

Ezra had no idea what else to do. He'd tried the dates. He'd showered her with presents he had guessed she would like. He'd even let her paint him every color of the rainbow without too many complaints. He'd offered to dance with her despite his having two left feet. He'd given her flowers when they happened to be on a planet that had really pretty ones. He was officially out of ideas. _Show me that you mean it and I'll believe you_. Her words echoed in his head every time he felt as though he should just give up. He'd been at this for months, surely that proved he meant it.

What wasn't she getting?

He was going to have to try something else... but he had _no idea_ what that else was!

_Unfortunately_, the last resort was one he had saved as his last. If all else failed, which it had. Ezra didn't doubt that his mentor was good at what he couldn't get the hang of. He would appeal to Kanan, beg for his help and swear the strong Jedi to silence.

* * *

A few days later, Ezra decided he wouldn't put approaching Kanan off any longer. It was now, or never, and never wouldn't work for Ezra. This teen needed results. He informed the protective Jedi that he must come to meet him immediately in their training area. It was the best place for this sort of thing, Ezra figured. Kanan was worried, considering his Padawan's anxiousness, having made it sound as though it was an emergency. He dropped what he'd been doing, going over a supply-drop run with Hera and Zeb, and sped to the training site. When Kanan arrived, he found Ezra sitting cross-legged on one of the all-purpose mats, looking expectant. Not so much looking as if he faced a life or death situation. Ezra shot Kanan a million credit grin. A bit baffled, Kanan obeyed when Ezra motioned for him to sit down with him. Kanan's skeptical look razed his student's twitching face.

"What's going on?" the Jedi asked, obviously confused, doing his best to hide impatience.

Ezra hesitated before answering while Kanan stared at him, deadpan.

"What do you want, Ezra?" he asked and the tongue-tied, self-conscious teen sighed.

"Possibly a tiny favor and a promise to keep your mouth shut about said tiny favor," Ezra painstakingly prefaced, as Kanan began folding his arms over his chest.

"It depends on the 'tiny favor,'" Kanan steered.

"Well, I'm not telling you what it is until you give me your word you won't tell _anyone_ about this." Ezra looked like a man on a mission; one Kanan gave him an irritated look for.

"As if I'd ever repeat what you tell me in confidence," Kanan emphasized as if he were as stupid as a Sarlacc.

"Swear," Ezra implored, his face a mask steeped in seriousness.

"I _swear_ I won't tell anyone." Kanan was done with all this mystery. "So what's this favor I'm about to change my mind about granting?"

Ezra couldn't keep himself from looking at Kanan curiously a minute longer, as if assessing if he should really ask Kanan for this.

"I need help. She still won't be with me." Ezra looked crushed. Oh, no! He told himself those tears in his eyes had better dry up!

Upon sighing, Kanan reached for his pupil's knee before stroking the arm that was closest. "Look, Ezra. You summoned me here just so I won't tell anyone you want help with..." Even though they were quite alone, he hushed his voice. "Sabine?"

Feeling those tears burn in his eyes, Ezra felt wounded, shooting him a hurt look. "I don't know what more to do! It's not like she's the Force, for goodness sake; I can't feel her. She gets all lovey-dovey. We hug and kiss, but Force forbid I call her my _girlfriend_." Ezra used air quotes freely. "Because this on-again, off-again '_thing'_ we sort of have isn't like that." More air quotes.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Kanan's inflection was confirmatory. So much for biding his time with holding his tongue.

"Get what?" Ezra inquired, dreading the answer.

"You expect her to commit, but she's not ready to. Lesson one: Women are far more inscrutable than the Force." The sage Jedi was trying to break it to Ezra as gently as he could. "Flowers and dancing won't wear her down. If that's what you thought. She's Mandalorian to boot. Male, or female, they're tough cookies. Not easily won over. Or, have you already forgotten one of our latest missions? Sitting at the table with those two was like trying to keep their strills off me."

Groaning loudly, Ezra was clearly floored. "I thought that by now she would trust me. She'd see I'm not the goofy, selfish kid I once was. I can be exactly the kind of guy she needs. I'd never hurt her. I just want to make her happy."

"What _exactly_ do you expect me to do about it?" Kanan demanded, more gruffly than he had intended. This was hard for the kid, and not a snap of the fingers for him as well.

"Tell me what to do! You know lots more about all this mushy chick romantic junk, and I don't. Please-I need help!"

Kanan hadn't meant to roll his eyes either. Didn't this galaxy have enough real problems? "Maybe you should start by not seeing romance as 'junk.'"

"Just tell me how to get Wren. I don't need a lecture," Ezra, petulant, muttered. He'd been lectured enough to last him a lifetime. He needed know-how, not 'hear-me-out.'

"Maybe you _do_ need a lecture. Sabine might not give off that she's into romance, but she can be sentimental. Or, haven't you noticed? Would sweeping her off her feet be too much to ask? Doing even sweeter things for her would be a start. She doesn't want presents, expensive, or otherwise, or fancy dates. She wants the sweet little things that will make her melt. Contrary to popular believe, **it is** the little things that count. If you aren't willing to _do_ _that_ for her, why should she be with you? There are plenty of other guys out in the galaxy who would be willing. If she's so important to you, why wouldn't you want to make her happy?" Kanan prodded softly, but seriously, as he caught the spark of understanding kindled in Ezra's eyes, who scowled at him.

"But I said that's what I want, making her happy," Ezra whined. "This stuff doesn't come naturally for me, Kanan. I'm from the streets." His heavy sigh filled the room, this room that faintly hummed because of the _Ghost's_ hyperdrive. "Where do I start? I thought I had. I've done _all_ I can. It's all the same. None of it has worked!" he fairly howled.

Kanan made no mention of how he could relate. If and when the time came, he might share from his personal experience of romance gone wrong. "Ezra, there's no need to raise your voice. I'm right here, not in the cockpit." He softened his stern expression. "Listen to what you just said. 'It's all the same.' That's the point. Where's the thought involved in that? '_It's the thought that counts_,' isn't some tired old expression. Sabine might enjoy your doing something thoughtful or special, out of the blue. Show her how much you actually care." If ever he needed the Force to lend him more insight, this was a prime time.

The tinge of his voice was decidedly dismal. Willing himself to shake off his dismay, Ezra conceded, "She's probably right. I'm obviously not _boyfriend_ material." He muttered something more, which Kanan chose not to pick up on. He saw all over Ezra's boyish face just how much the youth wanted Sabine to be where he was in the emotional scheme of things.

Kanan couldn't let his 'son' hurt like this.

"Think over every conversation you've ever had with her. Think about everything you've ever heard her say and before you interrupt me with how much she likes getting the last word in, yes I know that. _Do it _anyway. Have you ever heard her refer to something as being romantic?"

"Are you kidding me?" Ezra fired off as though Kanan spoke about a completely different person.

He rolled his eyes this time. "Isn't there anything, one thing at all, that you know about her that reveals what she would especially like? So you could do it for her?" Kenan bunted.

Off-hand, Ezra could not. But he wasn't obtuse about following through on the suggestion. "Fine, I'll try that. If it doesn't work I'm giving up and leaving her alone." Kanan had wanted to suggest that, and was gratified to hear Ezra arrive at it. "Live and learn everyone says, right?" He rose from the mat, thanked Kanan for his time and advice before disappearing in a blink.

Kanan contemplated the spot he'd vacated, wondering whether Ezra would give up the fight for Sabine's love. He had a feeling that the kid was too 'never say die' to give up so easily, as it truly dawned on Kanan that Ezra felt more strongly about Sabine than he'd ever let on.

He had to wonder about himself. Was he as one with the Force as he liked to think?

* * *

Ezra was sitting on his bed fiddling with his lightsaber, somewhat lost in thought. He took heart, recalling a snippet of description he'd overheard Sabine tell Hera that she thought the most romantic thing ever were Mandalorian sunsets. Well, they weren't going to Mandalore anytime soon, so that was out. Could she be sold on sunsets going on someplace else? He shook his head and thought harder. What about giving her something, like maybe a bracelet with a sunset engraved on it? Could that somehow be done?

Where was he going to get said bracelet, and locate a gifted engraver who could do it?

Ezra sighed, long and low, gripping his trusty device. "Is this even the way to go?" he muttered, by chance catching sight of Chopper skittering past the open doorway, going on about Zeb and his ritualistic 'people.' As Ezra shrugged, he wondered if he'd find what he was looking for at their next destination. Destination unknown, at present. _Romance_, he pondered, sighing, igniting the lightsaber. _Feel the romance within you, and around you_, Ezra taunted.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," he groused aloud. "A little sign would help..."

* * *

Now, or never, it was. Getting up his courage, Ezra committed himself. He was so not into this romance mumbo jumbo, but Kanan kind of had a point, as Kanan usually did. Sabine _was_ into a little romance, and he was into _her,_ so he was going to have to at least try.

Wait, hadn't someone once said, _"Do, or do not. There is no try?"_

Ezra wasn't sure where he'd picked that up.

If after _this_, she still wasn't buying what he was selling, he didn't want to think about what came next. Nothing.

Would he have to move on out of sheer embarrassment? Take Leia up on her offer? Taking himself as far away from her as he could, though never forgetting her?

Hmm... The Princess...

She had befriended him. He was like a brother, nothing more. Talk about unattainable; she was moons over every planet of the deep core and inner rim. He was down in a Sarlacc sub-pit, hoping for a glimpse of radiance.

Ezra, taking a deep breath, knew he must get in there, or what he had gone through would have been all for nothing. She had to like it, just had to. He took another deep breath, then went in, to see she was fast asleep, looking so amiable and so painfully beautiful. Her blue-green hair washed across her serene face. He debated whether to wake her, regretted having to wake her, but his little plan wouldn't work otherwise. He sat down next to where she lay. His movement had been slight, yet her eyes fluttered open anyway. She gave being a light sleeper new meaning.

She yawned prettily, asking sleepily, "Hey, what's wrong?" as she rubbed her eyes.

"I need to talk to you."

"Right now?" Sabine half-whined, half-growled, stretching and sitting up to lean back against the headboard.

Ezra, acutely aware of the time, nodded, half-heartedly mumbled, "_Kark_." Not the nicest word to say. What had made him think this couldn't wait until she was semi-conscious?

His loss of nerve, not trusting that he'd still have it if he waited until shipboard morning, that's what.

"Ezra..."

"Just, let me talk. Okay?" he whispered, with her looking at him all surprised.

With a nod, she invited, "Talk."

Who had poured molten metal down his throat in the meantime? Struggling to clear it, he began, "I know I don't deserve you, Sabine. I've known that the moment we met. I don't regret feeling the way I do about you. Never will." What he wouldn't have given to know what she thought as she looked at him like he'd lost his mind. He rushed to get to the point, before she told him to get out. "You're the best, Sabine. I don't think I really understood what it means to mean it, before. I'm not good with _romance_. I don't understand half of it most of the time and it's not something I have any experience with. But...but, I want to try...because it's _you_." His sincerity oozed from every pore under her watchful eye. "I've made mistakes, always will."

"Like, who's perfect?" Sabine butted in.

"Definitely not me. I'm not the guy somebody's daughter grows up dreaming they'll marry one day."

"Ezra..." She'd made saying his name a question with a lump having risen in her throat, now so dry.

"But-I love you." Had he really been choking, Sabine would have come to his aid. As it was, her eyes widened and she blinked rapidly. Not stunned exactly, more like thoroughly surprised. Like she had no clue? Please. "And I'll try to make you happy if you let me." How could she fail to see how much he meant it? Ezra placed his hand in his pocket to extract a glinting little blue decorative box, proud to be gifting what it held to her. "This is how much I mean how I feel about you." Yeah, that had come out awkward. Count on one's nerves to foul up the most carefully thought out sentiment.

Sabine smothered the awkward moment by lifting the lid and helpless to suppress the teeniest gasp when she saw the precious hand-crafted cuff platinum bracelet nestled on tissue paper, the same color as the box. She removed it, awed. It was a cinch, making out the engraving on its broad face. Indeed, she adored sunsets, and this bas-relief depiction was perfect. How did he know? It had never occurred to her that he knew anything about one of the many things she missed about her home world.

"Breathtaking," Sabine murmured, her eyes misty. "Oh, oh...just fantastic."

Swallowing gently, lest he did something extreme to spoil the moment, Ezra encouraged, "Look just beneath the corona." She met his eyes, dazed, then trained her eyes where he wanted them to be. Her jaw dropped.

_'Sabine, you had me at, "We're a family.' - Now and Forever, your Ezra'_

She gawked at him in sheer disbelief; seeing her watery eyes, he wasn't sure if that was a good, or a bad, reaction.

"Now and forever?" Sabine trailed off through quivering lips with her voice breaking as she tried to hold back those incriminating tears. "You're m-my Ez-"

"Only if you want it that way," Ezra relinquished, with his heart in his hands, offering it up to her. He'd cut her off. Well, he'd always be faithful, just not the best-mannered. "I'll always love you."

As her tears finally fell, her lips crashed against his, he kissing her back as intensely. Several long, tender moments passed and they mutually pulled back to look intently at each other. On impulse, he brushed away the few tears staining her soft, perfect cheeks with his thumbs.

"Okay, you win. I believe you," she throatily admitted with a beatific smile. "Ezra, admitting to myself that I love you hasn't been easy." Now **that** was the meaning of understatement. "I've tiptoed around taking it to heart, let alone saying it. But...I do. I love you too."

Nope, he wasn't dreaming this time. Her words were loud, clear and in no way fuzzy. Although, Ezra blinked as if he was the one just waking up. "So...so, I did something right?" he put to Sabine as she giggled, almost a moan.

"Yes, this is the most romantic thing that's _ever_ happened to me." She grinned and he couldn't help chuckling. "How could you have possibly known about that?"

Careful about not smirking too much, he confessed, "I overheard you once with Hera say how much you liked your Mandalorian sunsets. In all honesty, I searched every place on that last ritzy planet for what I hoped you'd like. It had to be perfect." He made a valiant attempt holding it together while she wreathed her arms around his neck and laughed, then kissed him until he was forced to come up for air. If he never did another romantic thing ever again, she wouldn't care. This was above and beyond. This was glorious.

He wasn't perfect, far from it. But, he was adorable and she mattered to him. He mattered to her, which was all that truly mattered.

This was love.


	20. Chapter 20

Habitually, the Empire would crack down on anyone whose work did not glorify the sneaky Emperor's 'New Order.' Praising his demagoguery to the heights and squelching whatever didn't go along. The ideology was in keeping with the dictatorship's limiting personal freedom, something it excelled at. Surging with talent, creativity and thoughts, Sabine desired to become a famous artist, but the Empire's policy of suppressing creative talent had put a huge crimp in her aspiration. Yet, hope was known to spring eternal, especially under duress.

Once the Empire was no more, and one of the focal reasons why she was such a fierce fighter, aside from being Mandalorian, was to make this deplorable domination go away. Her dream would be realized, as would the countless dreams of others once the corrupting influences responsible tyrannized no more.

Ezra had innocently asked her not too long ago, "Are you a Mandalorian? A real one?" Here he was, bringing the hot-button topic up again. If persistence had a face, it would be his.

The rest of the crew, sated from a well-prepared meal, and wanting nothing more than to rest, for once, drifted off. Bent on involving themselves in other, less tedious pursuits. Not that they were being rude, they just preferred sparing themselves the lecture they had heard once before.

Sabine felt like telling Ezra what was what, this time. If he weren't a kid, a very cute, outspoken one, at that, she might have answered his questions with blasters. He knew nothing about her people and she wasn't inclined to give him supplemental information. Armored Mandalorians weren't exceptionally welcome in the galaxy, as a rule, ever since the empire had outlawed their mercenary practice and occupied her homeworld. The few who roamed the galaxy were, more than likely, armored imposters. Sabine Wren was most definitely not one of those. Not a stranger to bounty hunting, but a stranger to being anything other than true to herself, Sabine, at first had decided that Ezra didn't need to know about any of that carrying on. She had stuck to her resolve, her mind made up, that he could just keep right on absorbing any mystery surrounding her. Mum was the word.

For random persons, donning armor, and parading around the galaxy as a Mandalorian would evidence that Mandalore had either reverted back to those traditions, to some extent, or, that Death Watch continued to grow and made it 'popular' for others to take notice and take up the armor for themselves. Those actions, inevitably, built on the legend that had existed before.

The legend encompassing, and spreading, that Mandalorians were the most fearsome warriors in this galaxy in shambles. Sabine firmly believed, as did Bo-Katan: "Mandalore would survive. We always survive."

And, she'd changed her mind. Ezra was no longer a stranger; he had become the apple of her eye. She trusted him, knowing that whatever she told him wouldn't devalue her in his eyes. After dinner that night, she sat him down and began filling in the missing pieces of her life.

"You'll have questions," she prefaced, judging by the look in his eye he'd have loads. "My mother was a member of Death Watch. What's that, you ask?" She rolled her big, light brown eyes and infused the look she gave him with understanding. "I'll make it simple. A Mandalorian splinter group that opposed the pacifist rule of the government at the time. They were led by Duchess Satine Kryze, during the Clone Wars." Anticipating an immediate question, she put her hands up to stave what was on his mind, off. "Just let me get through the bulk of what I want to tell you."

"Okay, okay," Ezra yielded, backing down with a sigh.

She got back to the beginning of what would be a lengthy delivery. "They tried many times to overthrow the government, but failed taking over Mandalore. Eventually, they became part of Darth Maul's _Shadow Collective_, a criminal alliance founded during the Clone Wars by Maul. His villainous band worked alongside Maul as he'd enacted a plan of revenge against Darth Sidious. The group went on to fragment." She took a breath, then forded on. "But not before it successfully took control of Mandalore."

Ezra gawked; his eyes riveted to her serious face. He pursed his lips, on the verge of commenting, but didn't. She was on a roll, and far be it from him to stop her. This was the most fervently she had ever spoken to him, having put aside all reluctance to tell him more about herself. Her past, something of her heritage. The sound of her voice charmed him into submission; Ezra was all ears, eyes, mouth, tongue, throat. Which he didn't permit one sound to escape from.

"Following the end of Mandalorian Civil War, the Mandalorian warriors were exiled to the moon of Concordia where most of the warriors died out. Any survivors regrouped and began calling themselves the_ Death Watch_. They were then led in secret by Concordia's governor, Pre Vizsla, of Clan Vizsla, and the Duchess Satine Kryze's sister, Bo-Katan. I'm clan Wren of House Vizsla.

"The civil war that took place erupted before the Clone Wars..."

To Ezra, the recounting of what had gone on with her world seemed like one never-ending saga of conflict. He reinvested himself, urging her to continue, giving her pointed looks. If there was going to be a quiz after this session, he'd beg off. His head had started to hurt, but he kept his mouth shut.

And Sabine went on:

"A division in the Mandalorian clans developed that stemmed from a fundamental difference in ideas over the our place in the galaxy. The conflict went between Mand'alor Jaster Mereel's True Mandalorians, who believed that we should act as honorable mercenaries. And Tor Vizsla's splinter group, known as Death Watch, which advocated that we needed to return to our savage roots as raiders and robbers. This war lasted over a decade with victories and losses on both sides. Jaster Mereel fell on Korda Six as a result of a sympathizer betraying him. Jango Fett succeeded him as the new Mand'alor, and leader of the True Mandalorians until the devastating defeat at the Battle of Galidraan against the Jedi Order."

At last she seemed to be running out of steam, or so it appeared.

Ezra thought to say as fast as he could, "Wow-against the Jedi, huh!"

Sabine threw him an impatient look, then her expression mellowed. "Oh, there's more. Lots more."

_I bet_...Ezra thought, a trusty smile plastered on his face, with no intention of discouraging her from continuing. This was some lesson he was getting and she had his full attention. He hoped he had hers.

"There, a Death Watch scheme unfolded that brought a contingent of Jedi Knights, led by Master Dooku to the planet under false pretenses that the True Mandalorians were murdering civilians." Hotly, she denied, "So not true?" Calming herself, her tale of intrigue and belligerence rambled on. "When the Jedi attempted to take them into custody, fighting broke out that left eleven Jedi and every True Mandalorian on Galidraan dead, save for Jango Fett..."

And all Ezra had asked had been how she felt about the _Death Watch_, turned Protectors.

At length, he still hadn't received a straight answer, but he had no doubts that Sabine knew her Mandalorian history, hands down. Although, since he knew none, she could have been telling him anything. He chose to trust that her recounting was the real thing. "What else?" Ezra gently prodded.

"You seem like you can't get enough of this stuff," Sabine chided, indeed looking as if she'd forgotten where she'd left off. After yawning, she backtracked. "Okay, so...ah. Jango Fett..." Another yawn, and she was off again. "As Kal Skirata had once said, '_No true Mandalorian can live alongside the Death Watch._"

"Was he right?" he asked with a shrug. Sabine's ambiguous expression lent itself to Ezra's hit-or-miss conjecture.

She answered his shrug with one of her own. "The civil war was fought over conflicting culture. How we Mandalorians would live in the future. Our more impressionable poets poeticized the conflict as being a battle for our very hearts. Although the Death Watch succeeded, destroying their True Mandalorian foes, Jaster Mereel's Supercommando Codex would live on under his adopted son Jango's reign as _Mand'alor _for generations after."

And just when Ezra believed his head couldn't spin any more than it already was.

Sabine waxed more pensive. "No Mandalorian would dispute that in spite of its philosophical and ideological importance, the war had been fought between two relatively small factions, in what was seen by some as little more than a common power struggle. Mandalore's full-time army had been swallowed by the conflict, along with several prominent clans, but it had barely touched Mandalorians living off-world, even those in the Mandalore sector.

"After the war, Jango Fett, scarred both by the loss of his True Mandalorian compatriots and his years as a slave, grew distant from the people, and his role as _Mand'alor_. He turned instead toward the reclusive life of a bounty hunter until his death at the First Battle of Geonosis."

All right, enough was enough. He'd asked her for a little insight into her background, and the floodgates opened. But, Ezra was about to offend her by even hinting he had had enough 'download' for one day.

Fortunately, he didn't have to say a thing. Sensing his patience was wearing thin, and her own fatigue, her jaw was sore after so much yammering. Why not give him a chance to wag his tongue? "Ezra, what do you think was going on with the Pergil?"

"I was able to form a very strong link with them, according to Kanan." His chest expanded with pride. "He says I'm getting very good at establishing connections with other 'sentients.'" His Force-repulsion needed work, though, as Kanan had mentioned after saving him from falling into the gas pit the first time. "I think I bonded with the Pergil that saved me."

Arching her voice, and striking a pose that was a clear indication that she wouldn't mind if he sat closer to her...maybe even cozying his arm around her shapely shoulders, Sabine said, "That Pergil isn't the only one you've bonded with." She arched her eyebrow and insisted, "If we ever run into that pod again, remind me to thank him for saving you." As Ezra took the hint, snuggling up against her, Sabine kissed his cheek.

"Do you like Pergils?"

Sabine uttered a slight humph. "I guess..." She thought about the fantastic light display they had put on across their mammoth bodies. With a smile, she replied, "What was it like riding one?"

An hour later, Ezra was still at it, describing how incredible the whole unforgettable experience had been as Sabine dozily slipped in and out of consciousness. When he finally came up for air, he noticed her present condition, then suddenly remembered she hadn't really supplied what he wanted to know, namely: What it meant to be Mandalorian, for her. Shrugging, he knew that an understanding, sympathetic guy wouldn't press. He'd wait for a better time to pin the girl he liked down for a straight answer.

Not only was Ezra Bridger learning the ways of the Force, he was also learning the valuable skill of being a sensitive guy who understood when to goad a woman, and when to back off. Until next time.


	21. Chapter 21

Ezra, try as he willed, could not make the idea shrivel up and die. Oh, no. Day and night; night and day it nagged him. Incessantly. Hadn't Hera said it herself? Why, he'd heard her say it with his own ears. The thought locked in. The Rebellion was losing crack pilots faster than they could be replaced. Lamentable, of course. Inevitable? Preventable? Well, there was no denying it, no two ways about it. Piloting fighters was a risky business. You sat in the seat, there was no guarantee of your coming back to rejoin the fleet. So, what to do about offsetting the current shortage of ace pilots?

That was where he thought he could come in. Do his part, if it might help any.

It wasn't just a matter of good training. Finesse, personal style, and some degree of good fortune a good pilot needed under his or her belt too.

There was where his mind kept taking him. What stopped him from filling one of those seats? He could be trained, right? Look how far he'd come with his Jedi training. Kanan kept telling him so daily. He would have the Force on his side. The more he thought about it, the more he sensed he could make a success out of becoming a skilled, useful pilot for the Rebellion. He could begin. He owed it to the Cause. Currently, aside from a lack of skill putting him off, there was the pain of separation leaving his 'family' was sure to bring. He loved, was deliriously crazy about, these cherishable souls. Kanan, Hera, Zeb, Chopper, too, and most of all he adored his beloved Sabine. Yes, she was _his_, and made no bones about letting him know how thoroughly he'd won her over. They hadn't shared intimacies, yet. They were saving those things for the next level, which looked as though might be postponed if he left her behind to answer a trickier call, a pursuit larger than any of them. Being with them had given him this sense of sacrifice. Raising the stakes. Answering that call.

Strategically placing the needs of many above the couple's private concerns.

Swallowing down the ticklish lump now lodged in his throat, Ezra, still on tenterhooks over whom to approach first with what he had in mind, bowed his head over his hands that were folded on the common room table. Heaving a considerable sigh, he shut his eyes, thinking. Thinking...thinking...which gradually gave way to meditating. Doing so the Jedi way. As he concentrated, beads of sweat formed across his glistening brow, bigger drops taking shape the harder he focused.

He startled upon opening his eyes when his unfocused gaze settled upon Sabine, standing squarely before him. Having struck a familiar pose, her arms crossed over her chest, her stance strong, she landed the full weight of her stare on him.

"Hey," she barked, "are you all right? If you ask me, you look like you could use some fresh air." Rambling on, she capped, "Which wouldn't be a bad idea for all of us. But, try finding some of it aboard this stuffy, stale ship. Maybe I should get to work on reconditioning those venti-"

"Sabine..." Barely above a whisper he'd spoken her name, as if it were too painful to say.

She dropped down beside him without a moment's hesitation and nudged him with her right shoulder. The effort she put into it fell somewhere between waggish and weighty. It was no surprise how well she could read him at this stage. "Whatever's on your mind, let's have it." She gave into her impulse, gliding her hand through his long, flowing locks.

"Uh...I've been...thinking."

With a humorous lilt to her kittenish voice, she replied, "Well, you have been known to do it. Surprise, surprise." She took his torso between her hands to jostle him lightly.

Her attempt at questionable wittiness only made it worse. Boy, was he going to miss her and her knavish kidding. His voice went softer. "Thinking about what Hera said about...about..."

"About what?" Sabine linked his left arm with her right while crossing her legs and leaned back further into the backrest cushion. "I'm not in the mood for another one of your Outer Rim guessing games." In other words, her take on what she considered backwards.

Through a sigh, he insisted, "No, no, nothing like that. No." He visibly drooped and sagged; his chin listed against the left portion of his collarbone. He had no idea why this area of the clavicle felt tender. Maybe some mistake during a training session accounted for it. "It's what Hera said and what I think I should do about it."

_What is he trying to say this time_, she thought, hating it when he beat around the bush. A big, bushy bush. "Ezra..." Sabine elbowed, with the actual joint and her inflection. "Just tell me already."

He spat it out in a swift breath with his heart up his throat. "The Rebellion needs pilots. Hera said so. I'm thinking of becoming one. It's what I think I should do!"

Stone-struck, Sabine, blood drained from her face, froze, forgetting how to breathe. Her, "What?" trickled from her mouth, sounding strangled as she scowled at him, unrelentingly. "_What_!" she cried a second time.

Maybe he'd said it too fast, so he repeated, "I think I should become a pilot."

_Over my dead body! Ezra Bridger, you leave me now-I'll **kill** you_!

Had she just thought that, or had she blared it out loud? The way he stared at her now, gawking with his mouth wide open, looking shocked and desperate, maybe she had.


	22. Chapter 22

His diminutive Adam's apple bobbing, Ezra swallowed hard. He wondered whether he was seeing things. The walls of the _Ghost_ appeared to be closing in on him all around. Stuffy didn't begin to describe how close it felt in these cramped quarters. Yet, he had no desire to escape, made no move to extricate himself from this uncomfortable situation. Staring Sabine down, Ezra blurted, "I-I th-thought you... How many times have I heard you say making any sacrifice for the Rebellion isn't too great? I'm just following through on what you've said. Right? Thought you'd be proud of me."

He'd chosen _now_ to remember what had taken time to impress upon him.

He had her there, making her mark her own words, accepting what, fundamentally, she knew to be right. _No sacrifice_ was too great, but...but... This came down to something that touched her personally. _Someone_, more to the point. Did she have the right to go back on, or at least modify what they believed? "You'll be a great pilot." Injury had crept into her voice. Choking back sobs, Sabine turned away, her vision blurred.

"Are you serious? You'd kill me if I went off to become one?" When he walked around in front of her, intent that she see him, Ezra could see that she was on the verge of tears. A troubling sight. He reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled back. "Aw, Sabine-don't."

"Go, then. Just go! Turn your back on _us_-your family. On people who took you in, not just into the crew, but into our hearts!" With that, she took flight.

Ezra, adroitly using Jedi speed, barred her way. "No you don't. Not before we talk about this."

Snidely, Sabine shot him down. "Oh, so _now_ you want to talk." Sidestepping, with equal nimbleness, she eluded him, only to have him restrain her.

His grip firm on her arm, he said, "Yeah. Let's talk. I can see that you want to."

"Not so much," she lied, breaking out of hold, but didn't take off. Why did he have to be that much more appealing all fired-up like this?

Settling an ironic look on her, Ezra inveigled, "Yes, much. Come on." He made himself comfortable on the common room couch, confident that she'd soon join him. Once she had, he continued, "Now...tell me. What's wrong with me training to be a pilot to join their ranks?"

Sabine searched his earnest, youthful face for several moments before any semblance of a logical reason could fill her mind. She thought about how much actions spoke louder than words, so she acted, throwing her arms around him, then forcibly taking his head between her hands and pressing her lips into his. Not surrendering them until Ezra gasped that he needed to breathe. Panting as though he'd never stop, he just gawked at this female, always up to new tricks. But, this wasn't one of her tricks. This was she, being who she was with him. In love...

Silently tortured.

More emotional than sensible, she croaked, "I don't want you to go. I want you here, being close to me. I couldn't bear your being away, Ezra. I'd worry about you every moment. I don't want to worry about you. I want knowing you're all right. Safe-with _me_. Us." Biting her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth, then sighing, she listened to the ragged beating of her heart. She thought she heard his beating just as irregularly, and hoped he could understand even if she wasn't making sense in her usual clear-cut way. She wasn't herself...she had fallen for him hard.

But was too Mandalorian and skittish to admit it.

"Sabine..." was all that Ezra could think to say. What had come over her, her being like this? So unlike herself. Was it? Could it be possible that? He had no problem meeting her problematic eyes. "You don't want me to go-"

Cutting him off roughly, she snapped, "That's what I said. You heard me."

"Yeah. I did, but what are you really trying to say?" If it was what he hoped had her like this, at last, he wanted it coming from her. No coaching from him. It would have to be all her.

"If you go, I'll kill you," she growled; her tough façade crumbling.

"And if I don't go?" Ezra anted.

"You live."

He threw her an unbridled look of placation laced with bemusement. "Thanks," he fumbled, not sure what had just happened. Where was her confession of undying love for him?

"Oh, and..." She rose to stand, pulling him up with her. She threw in his face, "If there's anymore talk of your running off to become a pilot, I know just how to shut you up." Overpowering him again, she kissed him with even greater determination this time. "Take that as a warning." When she made to walk off, Ezra perpetrated some of her own treatment on her, wrangling her back to himself and kissing her until she was the one begging for air.

"Take that as a promise," Ezra murmured against her cheek. "Where you go, I go. You stay. I stay."

"I like the sound of that," she softly whispered into his ear, then fondly raked her fingers through his blue-black hair. "I like it very much."

Zeb broke up the tender moment the couple shared, they separating from each other abruptly, when he boomed, "Hey, you two, I've got to get this off my chest. Now's as good a time as any. It's about Agent Kallus. Could be I gave him lots to think about when we were stranded. If he joins us, it'll be because of me!" He strode deeper into the common room like he owned the entire ship.

"Drunk?" Sabine submitted, mouthing the word.

With a shrug, Ezra followed up, "Guess we should hear him out. Then, we'll know for sure."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: This might be somewhat surprising, but I hope it's okay, and enjoyable, for the most part.**

* * *

Ezra was exhausted, and with good reason. He was elated too. He was growing stronger in the Force, but with increased power came greater demands and accountability. Greater danger for him too. The Dark side, the blight that eroded the uprightness and principles of good souls, craved him. It went without saying that Kanan's bombshell about his growing susceptibility to the Dark side had the padawan teen on edge. The newly-knighted Jedi had nothing but praise for him. The way his student had guided those tibidees of Oosalon to them as the Fifth Brother and Seventh Sister had been all set to pounce, was truly inspired. Ezra's affinity with lower creatures awed Kanan, proving beyond any doubt that he knew what he was doing, training Ezra.

His learner, whom he saw as his son, would not fail him, regardless of what awaited them on Malachor. There were worse places to go, but not by much.

With heavy sighs, Ezra stumbled into, what he considered, the dreary quarters he, increasingly objected to, shared with Zeb. Though Sabine had lent some very positive decorative touches to the room, the place had a way of lending itself to the doldrums. Looking from left to right, on the spur of the moment, Ezra decided against going inside. Zeb wasn't there, but that wasn't an inducement for him to make the most of enjoying the place all by himself. A sudden restlessness had taken hold. He felt as if the confines of the _Ghost_ could hardly contain him.

He had something on his mind, and the 'bee in his bonnet' wouldn't leave him alone.

Careful not to imbalance himself, believing that certain things were better left submerged in his subconscious, while others demanded to be acted upon, he pressed the panel in the wall and retreated from the dark space before him. There were faint tendrils of disturbance in the Force flitting about him. Should he hunt up a bite to eat for himself? At a time like this? Was he kidding? His stomach recoiled at the thought of eating as he thought about how his appetite was as fickle as his moods.

Adrenaline was the only sustenance he now required, that, and the carefully-hidden flasks of _enor_ stashed in Sabine's quarters, underneath her bed. One would be sufficient. Well...maybe later. With aching knees, he sank to them before rolling off of them. Fingers, instinctive in wanting to relieve the pain, went to his knees. He dug them into the soreness so hard, the nail beds protested.

A few dark, foreboding feelings plagued him. Yoda, thought to be a help, sometimes wasn't. Their latest conversation had Ezra quite confused. His tongue twisted in his dry mouth, and seeing about the _enor_ slaking his thirst seemed like a good idea again. Perhaps one of the better ones he'd had all day. It was just Sabine and he aboard the _Ghost_ for now. Someone had to 'mind the store.' The _Ghost_ was docked. Kanan and Hera, abuzz with information the cell could use, were meeting with Jun Sato aboard his ship. Chopper had insisted on going; he had a life too. There were always new droids to meet and swap binary with. Zeb clamored for not being left out too, which explained the empty quarters. On the off chance that there was a fellow Lasat to meet, he didn't want to miss out. Who had ever said Zeb and Chopper were two of a kind? So right that was. Never let size fool you.

So, increasingly thinking about how nice the mild intoxicant tasted, Ezra set off down the corridor wanting some. He gave no further thought to Yoda's disturbing doubletalk. Fight? Not fight? If they shouldn't fight, then how was the Empire going down?

"Stop it," Ezra barked at himself, standing once again on knee-aching legs. When he spoke again, it sounded more like an off-the-top-of-his-head monologue. "Kanan's a real Jedi Knight now. I wonder what those guards would have said if they knew how attached he is to Hera? They love each other even though they keep thinking they're good at keeping their 'thing' to themselves. Not so much. I don't think they would have made him one if they'd known. Wait. Maybe they did, but made him one anyway. He's that good." His relationship with Sabine was not open for discussion. The crew knew full well how close they'd become, but what they were to each other wasn't anyone's business but theirs.

Although, that could soon change...

Before guzzling some of the _enor_, Ezra considered going to the training area to practice several new moves demonstrated by Anakin in the hologram. Whatever it took to calm him down, despite stricken knees. There was something he couldn't put his finger on about Ashoka's former master that drew him, the budding Jedi, to Skywalker.

Bypassing the common area, he bounded for the companionway stairs. Ignoring the pain lancing his knees. With each height achieved, the more determined he was to never succumb to the Dark side, never sucked in like junk into a wormhole. _Unthinkable_! Yoda would be proud of him, and letting Kanan down was a consequence more horrible than death. When a familiar thought emerged, he was close to the training area. Sighing, he chose to bypass the intended route and head for the cockpit. Crawling through the tight space of a subsequent companionway, Ezra knew what he'd find there once he arrived.

This time, he was going through with what he kept putting off, painful knees and chilly feet, notwithstanding.

His love, his barometer, his reason for being even more determined to embrace maturity and responsibility than ever before, inciting him to be better with each passing day, was embroiled in a battle of sorts.

"Oh, no you don't. Not this time…"

The warning was one meant only for her ears. Cautionary advice geared to steer her back from the brink of defeat. The hand-held game she was trying to best was her favorite. Sabine knew, as she lounged in one of the flight seats with her legs dangling, that if she allowed herself a trip down her current road, she'd be hung out to dry. Taking a sharp breath, she forged along on her journey to victory. She blew an unruly strand of dark hair from her eyes, not hesitating before she executed a flawless counteraction that would crown her the victor. Just…one…last…play, masterful and sneaky, and—_boksh_! She'd done it; she'd won. "Ha! Nice!" she exclaimed, her flushed face smug, a stunning tableaux of winning realized.

Replete with her cunning success, she laid the game-lath aside and gazed dreamily out upon the wondrous star-field. Humming a tune, which sounded light and airy, Sabine delighted him, filling him with a sense of belonging. Belonging to her. She hummed as well as she put paint to textures.

He held back from intruding, wondering if she would feel he was if he interrupted. Was that an excuse? _Come on_, he berated himself. _Be a man, like Kanan_. Dallying in the cockpit's hatch-way a moment longer, he was caught up in the fullness of her sweet voice, having the power to perfect his every intention of going through with what was uppermost on his mind.

Tiredness lessening, nerves kicking in again, Ezra began to feel thoroughly enlivened. Almost euphoric. _Force_-he could do this! Should he? No need to imbibe _enor_ when feeling this giddy, as though he could pull the ears clean off a gundark. Yo, maybe _two, _in succession.

Sabine's tapered fingers grasped up the game again to have a look at the kaleidoscopic place-scape, but chose to ignore the impulse of playing again. Instead, she opted for closing her eyes, which told Ezra to leave her to a well-deserve moment of peace.

_Coward..._

_This is what I want, isn't it?_

About to take off, he rocked back and forth on his heels, promising himself he would catch her at a better time. _No time like the present_ goaded him.

Maybe he had better go check out the bump prominent on his nose, brought on by his slamming it against the jagged rock face of the cliff Kanan had saved him from falling from. Since signing on with the Rebels, his cute face had paid for it in dermis. Did Sabine have more of her miracle cream left? He doubted she did, no thanks to his tramas.

Her humming grew softer, as though she were on the verge of holding her breath, loath to exhale. Until she breathed, "How long are you going to stand there, not saying anything?"

"Sorry, Sabine. I didn't want to disturb you." How many apologies did this make? She brought out the apologetic in him.

"You're not." Pointing with an extended foot, she indicated he seat himself in the empty seat.

Ezra came forward and obediently complied, slipping in. Silence between them never felt more companionable. The silence afforded them time to collect their thoughts. He more so than she.

"It's the best…sitting up here like this. Hanging out in space, losing yourself in the universe. We're here in the _Ghost_, hiding out from the Empire, plotting its destruction." Her pregnant sigh reverberated in the cozy cabin. "Once all of this is over, I'd love to go beyond the Outer Rim. See what's out there, far, far away from this galaxy."

An eerie feeling gripped Ezra, and it lingered. She had said "I," as in not with him. Solo, minus him? Yikes! Did she think he'd been neglecting her? Because Kanan and he were always leaving on reconnaissance missions, all in the name of finding safe havens for rebel cells? Talk about his mood swings. What about hers?

If honesty prevailed, and they were working on that, they'd both had some beauts.

"Sabine…I've been thinking."

She resisted the urge to say, '_You…thinking_? _Since when_?' Just because they were in love, that didn't mean she had given up 'dissing' him when he single-handedly set himself up. Sabine censured herself.

Innocently, she followed up, "About what?"

"Us…"

As her heart beat faster, she sat up rod-straight in the seat to study his face, which was a report of nerves and giving the impression of his being taken aback. She thought it wiser to let Ezra get what he felt he must say out without any coaching from her. She merely encouraged with, "Go on."

This was no time to bite his tongue, not that he made a habit of doing so. "Master Yoda…" Wait—had he ever mentioned the little green, revered Jedi master to her before? He wasn't sure. Oh, well, if he hadn't, now was as good a time as any to name-drop the gnome.

"The greatest Jedi who has ever lived?" Sabine respectfully rounded-out. She wasn't completely clueless in that regard. Ezra lived and breathed Yoda these days.

"Well, one of them, at least," Ezra modified. "He says if I'm not careful, with my powers growing and all, and my zeal for combat, I could be consumed by the Dark side."

"Couldn't we all," she muttered well under her breath. Her sobering eyes squarely on him, taking in every inflection, involuntary tell and intention, Sabine murmured, "Think you will be?"

In some minute way, he judged maybe he might be, which had paved the way for this frank discussion. The brink loomed larger. Ezra deemed she grounded him to the light. He couldn't 'go bad,' as long as he had her, practically welded at his side.

A fitting place for her to be, and vice versa.

At this point in time, Ezra felt compelled to tell it like it was. He never wanted to be without her, the heck with the Jedi rule to spurn attachments. These were different times without an Order. He could still be one and have his Sabine too. The way he saw it. Now was the time to tell her exactly how it was.

He sprang up from the seat, lunging for her, zeroed in on her hands, and snatched them up into his. Not all that delicately, he drew her to himself as if the Force was making him do it. It would be fair to say a little of the Force, and a lot of Ezra.

Here was peace, and fidelity, true happiness, loyalty, and love. Most of all love.

Once his eyes had slid closed, they were open again in a snap. He had a sexy, shrewd, stunner to gain. His universe. As Sabine searched his eyes, demanding to know the meaning of his sudden unpredictability, Ezra opened his mouth and three words, driven by angst and desire, sailed from his mouth…

"Sabine." That first one had come out readily enough, but the other two wreaked havoc with his composure. His messy crop of raven-colored hair fell into his disoriented-looking eyes, but Sabine dexterously brushed the glossy curtain back. His boyishness did strange things to her heart. Clouding any vestige of good sense she prided herself on having. His on-again, off-again resolve double downed. His voice strong, he blasted out:

"Marry me?"

She all but fainted, as she listed back into the flight seat, free falling. The stars beyond the transpari-viewport collided. Tumbling, tumbling through inner space she went. Sabine, agog, befuddled, and knowing she'd heard right as he hauled her up from the flight chair, awaiting her answer, spun.

She didn't have one for him, not at first.

Ezra crumpled. If she said no, would he stay, or would he go? Become a daredevil of a pilot, to further the cause, not looking back for one second. Maybe his going away was better than his staying, in the long run.

"Marry you..."

He nodded, looking like a shadow of his, for the most part, sure of himself self.

"Let me think it over?" She knew how that sounded, feeling him squirm. Her response was no overwhelming shout-out of approval for tying the knot. She wasn't being cruel, just honest. They were two who had no trouble rushing into things. Marriage had never crossed her mind. At his age, how had it crossed his?

His heart imploding, hanging his head down, Ezra nodded. "Anything you want, Sabine..." He watched her go, leaving him alone with his unsettling thoughts, and unable to stop himself from thinking he'd spooked her. Maybe, if he wished hard enough, she might forget he'd ever asked.


	24. Chapter 24

Out of earshot of the _Ghost_ crew, the newest droidal arrival, the former inventory drone, barraged Chopper with questions. AP-5 was still flush with confusion, stunned by his new friend's generosity and abnegation. Not to mention, the concern for his welfare shown by these Rebels. Never would he have ever thought that Chopper would have sacrificed the stolen ambulatory strut to save him. He certainly owed Chopper and his friends, and was determined to help them in any way he could. He had never considered this before, the remote possibility of his joining the Rebellion. Yet, here he was, enjoying their company, feeling bound to them. 'Life,' such as he knew it, experiencing the highs and lows, was truly astounding, ever contradictory.

Such was, too many things that defied explanation.

One of many important things that AP-5 wanted to know caught in the squat droid's audioreceptors. The taller droid authoritatively asked, "Who is the one who repaired me?"

Pride figured in heavily when Chopper quickly furnished: "Sabine Wren. She fixes mostly everything when it breaks, runs down, explodes, ruptures, goes fluky, fatigues, malfunctions, gets blasted—"

"Like me." The memory was still raw. Before continuing, AP-5 reflected on the pretty, plucky girl's considerable skill, as Chopper and he continued traveling along the corridor. "She's Mandalorian. To be sure, seeing her takes me back…" Graphic recollections flooded his memory circuits. They were far more than bounty hunters. They were loyal, knowing how, and when to come through when times were beyond tough. A lot like this band wherein a wisp of a Mandalorian had salvaged him. He owed her much.

"Yes. Mandalorian. Brave and strong. One of the best friends I've ever known." Quick again to respond, the droid with two mismatched struts cross-examined, "Why are you asking?"

Non-defensive in the least, AP-5 said, "Oh, no reason in particular. Just curious, and grateful to her and her laudable talents." He made a sound quite akin to a sniff. "It's most disconcerting being fully functional one moment and scrap, the next. I would never wish it on any non-sentient." He thought, shuddering, about how his former master had enjoyed with what could only be thought of as fiendish delight, referring to him as '_clank-clank_.' Deplorable. After the Clone Wars, he'd been stripped of being a Republic navigator, demoted to inventory drudgery by the Empire. He had never felt any particular loyalty. The irrational disrespect shown to him had been shocking. Activated moments ago, already, he sensed that wouldn't be the case among this colorful assortment of sentient persons. "It is most reassuring being here," he said surveying their immediate circumscribed confines.

_C1-10P_, Chopper, when he wasn't being reamed-out by Hera, had long gotten used to his new friend's flashy, flowery way he put things. "If you think her technical talents are something, you don't know the half."

"Enlighten me then," AP-5 insinuated, having been about to ask where they were going. Proportionally, this ship was miniscule compared to the expansive layouts of Imperial vessels. But, complain he would not. Freedom beat spaciousness linked with browbeating any day.

"To my housing area," was Choppers snippy, quick-draw response.

Unable to resist a snippy retort of his own, AP replied, "Yours? You don't expect me to restore myself in, what I imagine must be, a very cramped, pint-sized space." What had he just been thinking? Well, he was allowed some concessions. Wasn't he?

Giving the protocol-bound droid some leeway, Chopper fed back, "Sabine will come up with something to accommodate your hugeness."

"Well, I hope so," AP huffed, not meaning to have sounded quite so put-off. Back to the Mandalorian, a subject he found most interesting. No, that was putting it mildly. Intriguing was more on-point. "Tell me. You hinted at her other talents. I gather latent ones. Such as?"

In a spate, Chopper related, "She is a great artist. You've seen a little of what she's done with practically every spot that's been decorated on this ship. On the _Phantom_ too. That's her. All her. She's amazing." What was truly amazing was all this praise. The likes of which Sabine has never heard come from the eccentric, feisty astromech 'wunderkind,' to date. "I won't be surprised if you ask her, she'd dazzle you up."

The removal of the restraining bolt was all the improvement he needed. "I like myself as is, thank you very much," AP huffed, then thought to ask before he thought better of asking, and dropped it. Maybe it wasn't his place to inquire, but that didn't hold him back from getting some sort of confirmation on his speculation. Preconception coursed through his mechanized body, his circuits roiling in suspicion. Time he tested the scuttlebutt waters. "That…that blue-black-haired young one—well, maybe not as young as I'm imagining he is. Are he and—"

"Ezra Bridger. You mean him. Right?" Chopper threw into the spotlight with a spunky bite to it. "We picked him up from Lothal."

"Precisely whom I mean, C1." AP repeated the kid from Lothal's name, drawling it out, its twang bouncing off the corridor's solid walls. "Uh…"

Sounding impatient, Chopper spluttered, "What about him?"

"Now, this could be considered a brash exponent, as I'm well aware. However, I feel I should voice my grasp of the situation, as I see it, realizing I haven't been afoot for very long. Yet, aside from that, I feel I should. Should, speak…"

If there was one thing that got Chopper's all too nearly melted-down circuits in a tizzy, it was time-wasting beating around the bush. Sputtering, he assailed, "What situation? Stop dragging your over-elongated ambulators! What?"

AP reviewed, absorbing Chopper's testy outburst, while having second thoughts about his being given more respect in this new setting. Shaking off C1's insolence, he put the bug in his ear, so to speak. "Are Sabine and Ezra…shall I say…in-synch? Compatible? On course?" When he got nothing from Chopper that satisfied his blatant curiosity, he spelled it out in more non-droidal terms. Perhaps offbeat Chopper was more comfortable with human, since they were in the majority with this crew, patterns of understanding. "Are they together?"

Chopper gave himself a thorough shake, his photoreceptors fairly popping, as he gyrated from side-to-side. He was the spitting image of being knocked for a loop. Like what the two humans were, was any of this newcomer's business. How should _he_, an instrument for achieving efficiency and progress, not to mention discretion, know? Baffled, Chopper rolled off, putting some distance between himself and the nosy-body.

Escape was futile.

"Wait, come back," AP protested, "you haven't told me anything. Anything useful I should know. Don't be like that. Surely, you must know something that's plainly evident, observable. Evidenced by how they act with each other. Chopper, Chopper, tell me what you know! It's vital—vital I say!" AP gained ground faster than Chopper appreciated, running him down with ease.

Under his electronic breath, the squat droid irritatedly swore, "Back off, Snoopy!" Then loudly, "I'm a droid, not a holo-scandalmonger!" When Chopper lost him down a stretch of corridor AP had no possibility of being familiar with, the astromech evader sighed in relief, having lost his tail, hiding in a small storage hatch.

Aside from having gifted navigator credentials, this chatty newcomer had a definite gossipy bent. A true gossip hound in the guise of a machine. Even when he'd had his restraining bolt snugly in place, he'd craved knowledge considered trivia. What had Chopper done?


	25. Chapter 25

What? Had he forgotten he'd asked her to marry him? Or had imagination taken over, having her think that was what she thought she'd heard? Trying not to think about Hera and Kanan being a sore spot, Sabine, lounging in fuchsia fly-suit pjs, decorated with silvery green piping, rolled over and out of bed. Not sleeping enough made her edgy. Lack of sleep, coupled with Ezra and Kanan's impending departure, did her no good. Ahsoka was bound to show up more sooner than later. Atollon didn't lend itself to inspiration, but her muse worked in mysterious ways. She praised it for giving her some distraction. One of her works of art, a tender trompe l'oeil rendition of the couple holding hands while staring into an Atollon sunset, made her even more depressed. Creating the piece had been fine. In retrospect now, not so much. The art was supposed to be a surprise; neither of them had seen it yet. She wondered if showing it to them, gifting the picture, was a good idea.

_What if_… As she suited up, preparing for running a diagnostic on the sensor markers, the voice in her head nagged. Kanan was so sure. Nothing bad was going to happen to him…and… Sabine glared at herself in the little vanity mirror wedged into the 'fresher nook. The hint of makeup she wore, when she bothered to wear any at all, was okay. Instead of smoky gray eyeshadow, she chose smoldering mahogany. At the last outpost they'd visited, she'd picked up an efficient variety of lip colors, gently assorted flavored. She decided to tint her lips with a little 'rich rose' for today, orange-'nilla to the taste. Just to keep things interesting.

_Leaving for Malachor…leaving for Malachor… Leaving_…

The mantra was doing all kinds of unkind things to her concentration, rendering it all over the place. Not exactly the best state of mind to be in when giant many-legged predators could get the jump on you and make you their next victim. Rex had survived, still unsure why his attacker hadn't finished him off. Maybe the creepy-crawly had saved him to munch on later. Then they had come to his rescue and the gladiatorial party had really started. Sabine shivered thinking that. While finger-combing her hair, Ezra and Kanan's battle practice sessions replayed in her mind. She was extremely forthcoming with her praise, commending how significant their skill, agility and prowess were. Together, she hoped they'd be an invincible team against the Force-plagued Inquisitors.

The profoundly sad thought jarred her and the little voice in her head cried out. _What if Ezra doesn't make it_? _He could die, like Kanan can't keep overemphasizing, or is captured_. Bracing herself by latching on to the walls of the 'fresher, Sabine choked back a sob. Her head sagged, hanging way down. Why did they have to go off by themselves? Hera was so right. They all needed to be in on this. Together was the way they needed to be, not splintered off because non-Jedis would get in the way. Non-Jedis would be in too much danger against such dark and dangerous foes. When hadn't she, Hera, Zeb, even Chopper too, ever come through despite all of the scary situations they'd already encountered? Okay, so Ezra and Kanan were dynamic Jedi, and Jedi had their own ways of doing things that often made no sense to lesser mortals.

Well, this lesser, passionate mortal had, quite by surprise, fallen for the hotshot from Lothal. Incredibly hard too, if anyone asked. Thanks to what Ezra had become, she loved him so very much now, which left no room, zip, zero, none, for her acting as though she could take or leave his marriage proposal.

Which was exactly how she'd left it. Talk about looking back in regret. She did. There'd been no talk about it since he'd first asked. And now, what if he'd changed his mind? Ezra, having thought better of it, had second thoughts because she'd left that door wide open. So, now what? Again, the cerebral fretter, with its not so gentle kibitzing, non-stop, jumped right in.

_Go—right now—find him. Tell him your feet aren't as cold as when he asked. You know you want him, and there's no use denying that any longer. You're a big girl, Sabi. It's time you started acting like one_.

_The man, the one you've always wanted, but never thought you'd ever know, let alone love, is asking you to accept him. Now, more than ever, before he goes…maybe never to be seen again…you tell him, "yes." You hunt high and low until you find him. Smother him in your arms and shower him with yeses. Yes him up and down, forward and back. Make sure he hears you loud and clear. Tell him "yes" to the best decision you've ever made, will ever make_.

Sabine's heart leapt as she couldn't help but smile. Her heartbeat increasing, she laughed out loud. Overexcited, she double checked to be sure not one hair on her head was out of place. Satisfied she would satisfy, she barreled for her quarter's door. _Ezra, here I come_, and then, like an Imperial cruiser slamming into her, in the same flux of thought, she fell into a quandary. What made sense suddenly scrambled. They would marry. But, when? When, in the midst of all this never-ending turmoil and uncertainty? Ahsoka could arrive any moment now, and then he and Kanan would go. Was she here even as she thought this?

So, what could she do, what, before Tano actually arrived on the scene? With her heart, peace of mind and sanity on the line, Sabine activated the door. To her complete surprise, but not so much on his face, as far as she could tell, Ezra stood on the other side of the door, looking at her intently, intuitively. His eyes as round as moons. He led with the scars on his face, proud of them now.

"You knew?"

Ezra simply nodded, watching her, solely her, without a trace of smugness nor overconfidence. This moment was as delicate as rays of sunlight shimmering in a herbaceous planet's atmosphere. "Sensed."

"Of course you did. I should be used to that by now." Her eyes twinkled like stars. By now, she wasn't sure if she spoke in a normal voice. Had it sounded too high?

His words flowed, more easily than he might have imagined. "I'll never get used to you, Sabine. Not if we both live for as long as we can." When she skimmed his long hair that hid half his face from her searching eyes, Ezra smiled, all boyish, yet knowingly, at once. "This isn't goodbye, y'know. It's never going to be goodbye." Cupping her hands, his sincerity glinted like a knife. One whose sole purpose is to spread butter ever so delicately, not messing up the bread, nor laying the shortening on too thick. "We're in this together, no matter what."

"You bet we are," Sabine confirmed, squeezing his hands, inducing him to squeeze back. "I'm saying yes. Ezra, my answer is yes. I marry you. You marry me. Got that?" As she threw her arms around his neck, she stamped little kisses on both cheeks.

The Jedi-in-training, bemused as never before, stewed in his own reverie. No dream this time; she'd said yes. What next? The I-dos, naturally. But, who would do the honors? Commander Sato? Of course, why not? But, if not him, who, then? "Got it. So…uh…when do you want to get married? Before I go, or when I get back?"

"Oh, no, nothing doing. No waiting till you get back. Because, if you don't come back—not saying you're not—'cause you'd better. But, just, well—what I'm saying is—"

"What you're saying is," Ezra butted in, "why put off the honeymoon, when we could have Sato preside over the ceremony and honeymoon until Ahsoka shows up." His face clouded then. "But, but what about you in a nice, beautiful dress? You know, like all weddings have. Weddings have lots of nice things happening and plenty of marriage stuff going on. Important stuff. You know."

No one had such a straggled way of expressing himself like her soon-to-be Jedi hubby. Hugging him as tightly as she could, she twitched, nodded against his right cheek as their sighing, along with their hearts, intertwined. "First things first, okay?" Sounding all wife-y already, Sabine insisted, "Let's go tell everybody. We might give a certain half-hearted couple inspiration. Do what we're going to do."

As they bound hands, and she pulled him along, Ezra waffled, all for their marriage, but anticipating some negative reactions. Foremost from Kanan. What would he say? The man who loved Hera, but held off committing because of allegiance to protocol extinct Jedi once held to. "Uh, yeah…sure."

If Kanan had a fit, forbidding them to marry, what would Ezra do? A rash thought materialized in his mind. Marry Sabine anyway, and Kanan would just have to deal with it. Forever hold his peace if maybe, one was never sure when it came to life and love, Hera might insist they do the same too.

Here come the brides?


	26. Chapter 26

He was married, and headed for a breakdown, at the same time. Sato had agreed to marry them at their unyielding insistence. Hera and Kanan had never said it was a good idea, or a bad one. If the impressionable teens wanted to go ahead, the decision was theirs alone to make. Kanan was Ezra's friend and mentor, not his conscience. These were different times. The Jedi of the past bore a pale resemblance to those of a Force-sensitive nature in these times. The kid was passionate about getting married to a wonderful woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her, Hera had told Sabine. Like the Mandalorian didn't know that?

The _Ghost_ crew, as well as those of Phoenix Squadron, had wished the young ones well, before, during and after their nuptials. The impromptu reception hadn't been a bit shabby, as though a wedding planner, with the ability to pull magic out of the air, had been hard at work for weeks.

The newlyweds were still making plans where to honeymoon. The _Ghost_ wouldn't do. Sabine was all in favor of going off to one of the more picturesque moons of Mandalore. Ezra had no preference. Had none because Kanan had sagely counseled him to let his wife choose. So, with that wise advice heeded, Ezra obliged. Wherever Sabine wished to go, they'd go. For the moment, they weren't going anywhere. They were stuck. More specifically, Ezra was. Riddled with guilt over what had happened to Kanan, resulting in his loss of sight, the young married man couldn't get past his culpability. Despite his wife's, and the rest of the Ghost crew's insistence, that what happens in battles is as unpredictable as predicting a wormhole materializing, Ezra was mired in the doldrums.

The loss of Ahsoka combined, guaranteed that the mopey, war-weary youth had a lot on his mind, which didn't seem to include satisfying his sympathetic, but dismayed bride.

With his head burrowed into her side, beneath her armpit, Sabine sighed. Its sound quivered in her quarters. Their bedroom, now. Zeb couldn't have been happier, having his quarters all to himself again. The look on Ezra's tender, yet tested, face in repose softened her. Looking upon him, her eyes caressing him lovingly, she thought better of waking him up as roughly as she first thought she'd wanted to. Her fingers worked the dark fringe of hair from his eyes. He was snoring, but not very loudly. Not to make her want to kick him out of bed.

But, enough to make her want to tickle him, just a little. Just enough so he'd wake up on his own. Between his fourth and fifth rib, she went to work. Tickling him had become her new favorite sport. However, when sound asleep like this, he made the sport more demanding.

"Com'on, sleepy-bones. Wake up," Sabine fanned, flicking her fingers nimbly over her husband's sleeping form. Having the opposite effect, he burrowed deeper into her and she snickered. "Rise and shine, Maul's Plaything. I don't think I like how easily you're manipulated. Unless I'm the one doing the manipulating." Raising an eyebrow, she kissed his cheek. Still dead to the galaxy, Ezra went right on snoring. The noise coming from him somewhat louder. "Hey…I'm not kidding. If we want to make it to Mandalore anytime soon, we should make a start. Said start right after your training session with Kanan. And my hyperdrive shakedown with Hera and Chopper."

After snaking her tongue in the exposed ear, Ezra croaked, "Sabine…" He pulled himself into a tight unpliable ball and rolled himself away from her teasing. "No. Not now. I don't feel like doing anything." Not anything except crawl into his dark space inside himself and blame himself, on and on, for Kanan's blindness. _All my fault...all my fault_! "I can't believe he can't see! I should have stayed with him and Ahsoka!" he wailed.

"When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself?"

Petulantly, he whined, "I am not feeling sorry for myself!" _Never_, he told himself, curling deeper into a ball. _I never listen and now Kanan's blind 'cause of me_!

Sniffing a good deal, she begged to differ. "Says you. I say you need to let yourself off the hook. What was one of the first things you told me when you got back?"

Sluggishly, Ezra admitted, "I don't remember."

"Okay, then I'll refresh your memory. You said you need a lot more training. And practice. My advice: Go get more. Starting now. Kanan hasn't given up on you. So, you don't give up on yourself."

"Is this what wives are supposed to do?" Ezra countered, allowing Sabine to slip an arm around him and nestle her chin into the ticklish space between his neck and back. He relished how nice it felt having so much of her exposed skin pressed into his. "Nag, nag, nag."

"If it gets you on your feet again, and back on track, then I won't stop nagging, nagging, nagging." Lightly, she kneed him near the groin. "And, what wives?" Sabine teased. "How many have you had?"

"You're my first."

"I'd better be your only."

They both laughed, and Ezra unwound himself so Sabine, her heart galloping, a very stimulating feeling, could mold herself against him more evenly.

To put that contention to rest, he agreed, "My one and only." He kissed her longer than her breath lasted. "Force, you're so beautiful!" He searched her eyes. "I haven't been myself. I've been lost, ever since Malacor. It's just that, that…it was a creepy, weird place and some pretty bad things happened. Stuff I haven't really gotten over…yet."

"Well, that's what I'm here for. One of the reasons, anyway." She lined her cheek up against Ezra's and poured her heart into her words. "Forgive me for what I said about you being easily manipulated. I'm sorry. I really need to stop being like a child. The first thing that pops into my head, pops out of my mouth."

He stopped her in the act of hanging her head and smothered it in his headlock. "I once heard this said someplace. Can't remember where. Guess it doesn't really matter."

Holding him tightly, Sabine listened to the sweet sound of his heart beating into her ear. "What doesn't really matter?"

"Where, or when I heard this thing about being sorry," Ezra said, as though he'd taken up being vague as a form of speech.

"What about being sorry?" Sabine humored, twirling his glossy hair between her fingers.

"Okay, it's a little sappy, I think. But, well…'Love means never having to say you're _sorry_.'"

Snorting mightily, Sabine clinched, "Ezra…love you. But, if I feel like saying I'm sorry for something, I'm saying it. And I'll still love you."

Laughing, crisply and sounding lighter than he'd sounded in cycles, he retorted, "Right. Fine. Hey…"

"Hey what?"

"Did you happen to see where I put the Sith holocron last?"

Sabine began tickling him in earnest. "Nope. _Sorry_. Can't help ya." She seized him in a headlock of her own and yelped when Ezra dished out some Force-inspired tickling of his own.


	27. Chapter 27

"So the holocron is safe?" Ezra asked, wishing he still had the thing that had opened a way for him to become more powerful with the Force. He wasn't a Sith; he knew that. He'd done no harm using the holocron. If anything, it had helped him be better. And wasn't that what Kanan wanted for him anyway?

_Safe_, Kanan thought with a wry smile slung on his face. _A Sith holocron and the word safe don't match_. Ezra's mentor, and loyal friend studied his apprentice for a moment or so before repeating himself.

"Yes, like I said; it is. Let that be the end of it." Kanan patted Ezra's shoulder. Wordlessly, he suggested he let the matter drop.

Having the holocron in his possession, the mysterious Force-wielder, who had shown Kanan he wasn't all washed up, would keep the device away from those who sought to do evil. Ezra was bubbling with questions, but Kanan knew that the young man was best served being far away from the dangerous holographic, pyramid-shaped artifact. He had no business looking into Sith knowledge. No business whatsoever. The secrets of the Sith and the Dark side had already had a negative effect on his pupil, Kanan sensed. He felt somewhat responsible. He'd stayed away too long, which had seduced Ezra down a questionable path.

In his mind's eye, Kanan pictured the glowing, palm-sized, crimson-glowing crystalline polyhedron. The youth's cockiness and certainty that he knew best how to become a better Jedi didn't gel with going to a Sith source for such enlightenment. Ezra was meant for the Light side, never the dark.

"Did you see me clinging to that destabilized junker platform as it was about to crash down?" Ezra asked, wondering whether Kanan had regained his sight but wasn't willing to let on that he could see just as well, or better, before the accident.

Forthcoming, the straightforward answer broke from the knight's mouth. "I did."

Elation bled from Ezra as he rushed to Kanan, kicking up a lot of dust from the sandy ground's surface. The hug Ezra gave his master was tremendous, and the excited teen shouted, "That's great, Kanan!" He stared into the bearded man's pale eyes, their pupils were still filmy. Yet, Kanan had just told him he had seen him, so Ezra believed. Kanan could see!

"My eyes are still damaged, Ezra. They'll never be physically healed."

"Oh…" Dismayed, he still clung to Kanan, more puzzled, thoroughly not understanding why he had just told him he could see. What was going on here? Could Kanan see, or couldn't he? "Then, how—"

"Seeing isn't only with the physical eye, Ezra. I saw an image of you in my mind, struggling to keep your hold on that plummeting niche. I envisioned how I would grasp your hand, pulling you to safety before I actually got you. I see things all too clearly now. Better than when I could literally see. You're a part of me, Ezra. I'll never let go. You do know that, don't you?"

Deeply affected by Kanan's pledge, Ezra nodded, filled with emotions. When he'd been too quiet for too long, Kanan touched his upper arm to gently question, "Want to talk about it?"

"I will, but not now, Kanan. Not until I give it another chance. She's always been a good listener before. I hope she still is, and gives me another chance. I can't lose her, Kanan. Nothing will be good if she says we're through." He was too young to be divorced, or so he kept telling himself.

"You do that. She's a very sensible woman, as if I'm telling you anything you don't already know. Have a good long discussion with her before our next mission. Nothing's promised in this life we've chosen." Hearing what he was telling Ezra made him stop and think. Hera needed to hear something from him as well.

"I will, Kanan, and thanks. It's so good having you back."

"It's good to be back. Sometimes even a veteran needs to step back, soul-search, sort things out, and jump back in with both feet. With priorities straight, and a keen eye refocused."

"That's what you have me for," Ezra razzed.

"You…and a crew of the most selfless, self-sacrificing sentients in the galaxy," Kanan said, meaning it with all his heart as he crooked his arm around Ezra's neck and hauled him off to find Chopper. "That loveable droid included."


	28. Chapter 28

"Sabine, we need to talk..." His voice was gravelly, sounding older than he was. Insecurity came flooding back to him. Since his having been deprived of the holocron, he no longer felt as weighed down as he'd been feeling. He wanted to be more open, with nothing to hide. She deserved nothing less. Why had he kept his having had the holocron from his wife in the first place? He knew why. She would have told him to get rid of it, and at the time, holding on to it was what he had wanted to do. Their marriage had gotten off to a great start, but now it felt as though a pack of Wampas was tearing it apart.

"W-what's wrong?" Her eyelids shot up. She had been drifting in-and-out of wakefulness and consciousness, in their bed, the one she had all to herself ever since she'd asked Ezra to go sleep where he used to, before they'd married.

His hand traced her naked spine, fingertips alighting on each vertebrae, as though he was playing a stringed Nubian acoustical musical instrument. He smiled, touching her like this; it had been a while. He was glad she was letting him.

Sighing, Ezra stilled his hand against her warm body. "We are, Sabine. What's happened to us is all wrong. That's why we need to talk. We have to fix what's happened to us."

"We've needed to talk for a long time now." She muttered, "You're always so busy being in charge."

"That's not what I want to talk about," he objected, feeling her annoyance as she squirmed.

Sabine felt she had to bring up what had been getting her down, or gag. How many times had she told him to quit being Mr. Know-It-All? Kanan hadn't been with them, but he hadn't died either. "Hera needed to show you nobody's above not following orders. You want me to try smoothing things over with her?" She rolled onto her side, taking her time, to look at him. The love she still felt for him engulfed her. The expression on her husband's face wrapped an invisible hand around her heart that squeezed. There was heartbreak in his supplicating eyes, as though his eyes were holding their breath, if they'd had any to exhale.

"That's okay. Hera was right to do what she did. Smoothing things over with her to get my command back isn't what _we_ need right now." He got as close as he could to Sabine. "I feel...I just know. We can make things right with us again," Ezra stammered.

Sabine sat up, wide-eyed, gathering the blanket around herself. She'd once been an expert at speaking her true thoughts, not biting her tongue. Her talent for swift directness had atrophied, ever since the boy, now young man, had wormed his way into her heart. There was no point lying. Was there? "Maybe...maybe we rushed into something we weren't ready for," she whispered, seeing Ezra's wounded expression saturate his face.

"Is that what you think?" He cupped one of her hands within his own. "Please don't think that, if you do."

"I know... We live in the name of risk; here one day, gone the next, for the sake of the Rebellion," Sabine exhaled, sounding tired, at a loss for knowing exactly how to put what she meant without hurting this man whom she still deeply loved. "But, maybe we should have..." She caught herself before she blundered into territory of 'no return.' She didn't want him thinking that they'd made a mistake, even though the thought kept occurring to her. What had happened to the guy that used to be nicer? Was a little unsure of himself? She found that endearing. She missed that guy. Where had he gone?

"Are you saying I rushed you into being with me?"

_I had a choice, and I made it. No one rushes me into anything_, Sabine reflected.

"Ezra, something's wrong. We love each other; I know that. But, maybe loving each other isn't enough to make our marriage work."

Her words cut deep, as his insides turned to ice.

Blindly, he lashed out, "Yes-yes it is! I love you, Sabine, no matter whatever I've done, have done, or will do, we can't end what we have!" Ezra squared his shoulders, feeling his face flush. "Sabine? You still love me, right?" Suddenly, he sounded like someone who had guzzled too many fizzy alcoholic drinks in one of Coruscant's seedier nightclubs.

"Yes. I always will." She remembered when she'd first laid eyes on him, and had never been the same since, in spite of his youthful enthusiasm and instances of extreme childishness. His qualities that drew her to him always sprang to her mind first.

"How you feel about me hasn't changed, then."

_You've changed; I haven't, Sabine _thought. "No, but you have."

Ezra sat up then too, and stared at her with stormy, watchful eyes that were darkening. Sabine watched him shake, as if he tried to rouse himself from deep sleep. Thoughts about the holocron floated across his mind. Sabine's heart pounded with desire. The desire made her lightheaded. Her veins ached, never forgetting the thrill of his lovemaking. How he could make every nerve ending in her sing when his passion ignited hers.

"Sabine, I need you to believe that I'm still the man who will never stop loving you. Will do whatever I have to do to make you believe we can't go our separate ways," Ezra pleaded, moving in closer to her again since she'd inched away. He bridged that distance, seeing how his nearness to his moody wife was affecting her.

He mesmerized her, as though she'd drunk the same intoxicant he seemed to have imbibed that was making him appear loopy.

"Stop acting like you know more than everybody. And being so sure about it."

Nodding vigorously, he swore, "I can do that."

She wanted him to say he'd do anything for her, but that he didn't say. The way he used to let those words roll off his tongue, before they'd said: "_I do_."

Sighing, she waited for that avowal, and still it didn't come. The longer she waited, the more she died a little inside.

Ezra looked at her, and Sabine looked at him, neither saying anything. The silence grew deafening.

Then, she finally broke the lull in communication, and gazed at him quizzically, slicing into Ezra's curious stupor. "Who is Moreena Krai?"

With his throat tightening, Ezra winced, chaotic memories overwhelming him. When he answered, his voice was rough, hoarse. "Wh-where did you hear that name?"

"You've mumbled it in your sleep from time to time. It's obvious she means a lot to you. Who is she?" Sabine asked again anxiously, "Who?"

"A _good friend_..."

She felt her throat with one hand and tried again to speak. Sabine's voice was rough and hoarse. "She was more than just a _good_ _friend_. Wasn't she? You loved her. Maybe you still do. More than me." It was obvious that Sabine believed Ezra had grown tired of her. She thought she knew the reason why. There was another, that girl whose name he would passionately cry out, no doubt hugging and kissing in his dreams, from his past.

Ezra's face went stark white. "That's not true, Sabine. Mo—"

"_Mo_?" Sabine squeaked, when she shuddered. "Your nickname for her? How cozy that sounds. You…and _Mo_…"

"Not my nickname for her. I didn't make it up," he protested, his eyes wild. "Everybody who knew her on Lothal called her that. Her family, they lived on this farm before the Empire came and took it from them, always called her Mo." His eyes bored into Sabine's face that looked so sad. Why was she acting like this? "Okay, here's how it was, Sabine, back on Lothal…with me and Mo—Moreena."

Before Ezra could get another word out, Sabine broke down, sobbing uncontrollably until he reached out to her through the Force, trying to calm her down. It wasn't easy, but eventually, his anguished wife got very quiet, going all still.

"Sabine, I love _you_. You're the _only one_ for me. I've made mistakes, but being married to you isn't one of them. I vow I'll be the man you won't regret having as a husband. Sabine—I mean it! No more Dark side leanings for me. I give you my word. No more thinking I know it all, all the time. I promise, Sabine. _Promise_. There's no one, but you. If there's no you in my life, I really will go all Sith."

Taking a deep breath as she gazed at him through her silky curtain of white/purple-tipped hair, Sabine nodded. "Ezra," she said, smiling nervously, tucking his hands into hers when she grasped them, "that goes for me too." Mrs. Wren-Bridger curled herself around him, one hand gently stroking his well-defined middle, and echoed what he'd said. "I give you my word. If there's no you in my life, I'll really go…on auto-pilot." As Ezra leaned in to kiss her, their foreheads merged and nodded against each other. "We are better, together."

"Love what you did with your hair," he mumbled, meshing his lips with hers.

Against his that were soft and warm, she replied, "Ezra, your hair's okay, but could you grow it a little bit longer? I'd like it longer."

As his mouth engulfed hers, and his eyes swam with tears, he promised, "You want it longer, I'll grow it longer. Whatever makes you happy, anything you want, Sabine…" He trailed off, and sighed happily into her. How many times had he told her that, _'whatever made her happy_?' Not nearly enough.


	29. Chapter 29

Ever since the vivid, unsettling communion with Maul, and the dynamic, revelatory Sith and Jedi holocron interaction while on the hangar, Ezra had no trouble embracing this emotional, carefully treasured link with his past. A fragile moment in time, lived not so long ago...

_"Hey, Ezra! Ezra Bridger—I'm sure glad to see you! I didn't think I would!"_

_Turning, he saw a red-haired girl, his own age, standing in a long line with other downtrodden souls, waiting to board a medium-sized passenger ship that rested on a landing platform. The teenage girl smiled at him, waving him over._

_Instantly recognizable, she was Moreena Krai, standing with her parents and younger sister, Sunana. Her pleasure evident, Moreena stepped out of line, rushing over to Ezra, and he asked, "What's going on? You're going somewhere?"_

_Chewing on her lower lip, the pretty girl, neatly-dressed in an opal-azure skylark suit, looked and sounded the way she felt when she replied, "My family and I…we're going away."_

_That caught Ezra's attention. With both eyebrows raised, he blustered, "Leaving? Why? For how long?"_

_Moreena hung her head. "We're going to live with my grandmother."_

_"Permanently?" he imposed, his query blunt, not wanting to believe it was true._

_"Uh huh." Regret edged her tremulous voice. "I tried getting a message to you, but…" Once her words trailed, she quickly fed Ezra, "I'm sorry. Everything happened way too fast. I still can't believe we're leaving like this. Everything my family's worked so hard for—gone! Just like that." She snapped her fingers. "I guess the Empire hates jogan fruit."_

_Ezra shook his head in disbelief. "What happened to your farm?"_

_"**They**," she bit off, "seized it." Moreena's bitter gaze wafted over to the Stormtroopers, who were bent on controlling the crowd, their blasters at the ready, at the security installation. "The Empire stole our land to extend their mining operations."_

_Ezra's entrenched scowl ate up his face and he howled, "Didn't they **pay** your parents **anything**?"_

_Moreena scoffed. "Define what 'stole' means, Ezra."_

_"That's a 'no,' then." Anger churned within him._

_"The Imperials condemned our perfectly good property because they can! Like they always do. They do what they want, any time they want to because the Empire is disgusting!"_

_While shaking his head, livid, Ezra barked, "They do stuff like this all the time. You're right. Who's going to stop them?"_

_"Yeah, who?" Moreena snapped too. "We're nobodies."_

_"Thinking that means they've already won." Ezra spat out, "Wish I could take them down. I'd love to wipe them out for good!" Then, he added practicality to his protest. "Farmers here have found other ways to make a living. How come your folks are determined to leave?"_

_"My mom and dad aren't like **us**," Moreena candidly brought up. "They know what Lothal was like before the Empire showed up. Owning their own farm, raising my sister and me on it, cultivating a delicious, nutritious crop like jogan is their idea of what happiness is. But since poopy Palpatine became Emperor, and his evil Empire took over Lothal… Too much has changed. Too much for them to take. They hate what this world has become. They don't want Sunana and me, and themselves, living here anymore. They're done!"_

_Ezra, sighed heavily, seeing Moreena's tears well up in her eyes. Unable to contain his grimacing, he cried out in despair, "I'm so sorry, Mo." He stepped in closer to her and patted her shoulder._

_Brushing her tears from her suntanned cheeks, she sighed too. "I'm going to miss you so much. You're my best friend. The best I've ever had," she unburdened, sniffling._

_"I know," Ezra confessed, not sounding even a tad cocky. "You're mine." Strengthening his voice, he boasted, "I'd like to drive out every last one of these half-witted Stormtroopers from Lothal."_

_"Yeah, me too. Kick 'em right out of here. We'd get our farm back, and everybody wouldn't be so gloomy, like they are a lot, now. Way too many faces are wearing permanent frowns these days." She raised a fist in protest. "Down with the Empire!"_

_Ezra advised her to lower her voice, and he placed his hand over his right knee, and touted, "I'm already wearing my shin guard. We could find an armor plate to go over your head to protect vital organs, and swipe a few blasters, then we're good to go."_

_Moreena laughed. "Nice try, hero, but I think I'll try staying alive." She changed the direction of their conversation, intending to drag it out for as long as possible. This goodbye was tougher than she thought it would be. "So, what brings you to the spaceport?"_

_"There's a gladiatorial event tonight. It's gonna be an epic battle. Sporting matches like this attract people who have gambling in their blood. You know what people like that attract."_

_"Yeah—you!"_

_"True. Keep it down, though. No need to alert the public." Suddenly, he couldn't keep his eyes off of an unsuspecting Balosar tourist. Hungrily, his eyes followed the female's every move. She was wearing an expensive coruscating lavender silk scarf wrapped delicately around her two antennapalps that extended from the top of her head. Too bad he wasn't a Jedi. Balosars were readily known for their susceptibility to that caste's mind tricks. Ezra brazenly muttered, "That scarf's got to be worth at least a solid thousand. Even more, maybe."_

_Just then, Moreena's father's voice rang out, "Let's go, Mo! Come back in line, please. We're about to board!"_

_"I'll be right there, Dad. Give me another moment," she hollered in reply. To Ezra, she addressed, "I've been meaning to ask you something."_

_"Ask away," he said haphazardly, grudging her his full attention. He dragged his gaze from the wealthy mark's scarf. His eyes met Moreena's. "Shoot."_

_"Would you ever leave Lothal?" She made it sound like a wish. "Ever thought about that?"_

_"Leave here?" Ezra exclaimed, chuckling like she was pulling his leg. "And leave these tempting targets from all over the galaxy, just begging for their expensive trinkets to be taken, behind? Are you kidding? I'd miss out on all this fun."_

_"You call that fun?"_

_His eyes drifted back to the willowy, golden-eyed Balosar. He was able to hear the exotic-looker, talking. Her voice was mellifluous; its timbre haunting. _

_Moreena didn't see it his way. Sighing, she criticized, "I don't get it. Petty theft, scamming and filching can't be keeping you here."_

_"I'm making out like a bandit. I'm so good at being one. You've said so yourself. They'll never catch me. Never gonna happen."_

_"Well, it saddens me. I'll be thinking about you; your parents gone. You'll be all alone. I wish—" She stopped talking, catching him looking at her funny. "What?"_

_Her mention of Ezra's parents had ushered a grim expression to his youthful, unblemished face. He made it sound like a plea, "Don't, Moreena." Though his big, blue eyes watered, he sucked it up, and patiently told her, "I don't want you feeling sad, or sorry for me. I'm doing great on my own; I always will. I have a knack for it. I don't even have to try very hard. Surviving is what I do."_

_She wore her resignation like Stormtrooper armor. With her heart breaking, she said undaunted, "Okay, then… Guess there's nothing left to say, other than goodbye. Be safe, anyway, Ezra, even though being safe comes easy for you. Oh, and remember—I'll **always** be your friend." Making her exit good, she turned on her heel, and started walking away._

_Mere moments from flying off, out of his life. She hoped not for good._

_Her family had begun boarding the carbon-scored transport. Her little sister surveyed big sis with questioning eyes. Mom and Pop Krai waited for their oldest child; their facial expressions matched their bearings, taciturn. They might have passed for stone statues in a gallery._

_"Mo! Wait!" Ezra cried, practically vaulting to catch up with her. These words flew out of his mouth: "Where does your grandmother live?"_

_A little smile crept over Moreena's anticipative face as she glanced over her shoulder. "**Alderaan**." Nodding, she continued on her way._

_'A Core world,' he thought. 'She deserves being someplace nice.' He waved. "'Bye, Mo. I'll try to visit you there, one day…maybe…if I can afford passage. Don't forget me…" What more could he say? He'd run out of time._

_He watched her, along with her family, one of many families displaced by the tyrannical power that ruled the galaxy with cruel vulgarity, take their places aboard ship. As a group of chatty travelers, sporting gaudy Imperial paraphernalia strolled by, Ezra dismissed his missing out on plenty of opportunities to rip them off. Faithfully, he monitored the ship, thinking about Moreena's liking her first starship ride. Would she, or wouldn't she?_

_The repulsorlift engines fired, and then the transport lifted up from the landing platform, ascending splendidly into the sky._

_Through the years, for as long as he could remember, he'd seen many starships of all shapes and sizes, come and go. Touched by what felt like finality, Ezra stood transfixed, watching the passenger ship vanish as fleecy, thick clouds absorbed the craft, the higher it rose. He couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that he wouldn't be seeing Moreena, Sunana, her mother and father ever again__..._

"Sabine—now don't get sore." He lifted his hand to touch her lovely cheek as she searched his careworn, face. Sincerity flooded it.

"Me? Sore? About what?" she murmured, luxuriating in the pleasurableness of the day.

Content, and off by themselves, they were sitting underneath a glimmering, short-boughed Bindai tree, close to a minty-blue babbling brook on Elox, a moon of Zipouer. The clandestine moon was peppered with some of the tallest trees the _Ghost_ crew had ever seen. Zipouer was a planet in the sketchy, little-explored region of the galaxy designated as 'Unknown.' You traveled in and around this expanse of unchartered space at your own risk. As any knowledgeable rebel knew, this lay of space was the ideal place to go to avoid Imperial entanglements.

The day was sunny, warm, a captivating setting for letting go of anxiety and salving burnt nerves. Balmy breezes tickled noses every chance they got. Edginess, coupled with apprehension, was banished from this realm of peace and tranquility. The brook water was so limpid, seeing clear down to the bottom was not a problem. Its water temperature was neither too hot, nor too cold. Just right for swimming and staying in for as long as one wanted.

They reveled in having this delightful spot all to themselves. Up for anything, clad in festive swimming attire that did their strong, trim bodies justice, the couple were enjoying a proper honeymoon at last. Ezra's rust-colored trunks, and Sabine's silver [_lamey]_ two-piece suit were flatteringly fashionable, bought at a sprawling, lively bazaar on Ithor. Rest and relaxation was long overdue, and had never felt this good.

Ezra's damp head lolled in Sabine's petite lap, her pale legs having taken on a toasty color during the past few days from more sun exposure than they'd had in awhile. She stroked his hair he was letting grow, to please her. "I know why I've been crying Mo's name out so much. Why I've been so agitated ever since the two holocrons did all the weird stuff in front of me and Maul, sitting there staring at them. Those flaming pyramids turned our perceptions upside down."

"Why? What's the reason?"

She'd promised Ezra that she wouldn't be the jealous type. Ezra promised her unending loyalty and fidelity. Something he claimed he had no idea where he'd picked it up from, but couldn't stop repeating, entered his mind.

"_Do, or do not. There is no try_…"

With that thought under their marital belt, they would stick with each other, regardless, come what may. They wouldn't be throwing in any towels. Quitting was for cowards, not for this Jedi and his Mandolorian wife.

"I have a bad feeling about her, Sabine."

"This feeling you have… Any idea why you're feeling like that about her?" Sabine gently nudged, while twirling his silky hair about her slender fingers with freshly-painted purple nails to match the ends of her glossy hair.

"Through the opening of the holocrons, I believe whatever I saw in all that blinding brightness, that was as bright as half the suns in this galaxy, was a warning. A dire warning. She and her family—they could be in grave danger on Alderaan. That's where they went to live after the Empire ripped away their farm out from under them on Lothal. They went to Alderaan, to the grandmother's."

Her hand rooted itself in his hair, fingers clenching against his scalp, Sabine supported, "You know this for sure?"

"I _feel_, more than I _know_ as fact. But, the feeling is strong. It won't leave me alone. Won't go away." He relived what he'd felt the day she and her family had departed for the idyllic planet, the 'shining star of the Core Worlds,' Alderaan. He didn't know how she and her family were doing, only hoped everything was all right with them. He should have kept in touch. The hope he clung to that they were all right wasn't allaying his preoccupation with their continued safety. "I'd like to go to them, Sabine." He jerked himself up suddenly, sitting. He gripped her by her upper arms, but never shook her. He'd never bully his beloved, despite how anxious he felt, acutely worried. "I want to see how they are. Maybe danger awaits Alderaan."

"Are you sure? What kind of danger?"

"I'm not sure, but I feel something bad could happen," Ezra avowed. "I feel it like I feel your arms in my hands." He stuttered, dazed, engulfed by a powerful reverie. All at one, his mind filled with foreboding. These words thrashed against the walls of his mind:

"_I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced._"

"Ezra, Ezra—Ezra!" Sabine clamored, the calmness of her tone fading. The faraway, frozen look her husband's eyes held frightened her. "Ezra, can you hear me?"

When he fainted dead away, and her efforts to rouse him were in vain, she yelled at the top of her lungs for Kanan.


	30. Chapter 30

Maybe this wouldn't be the wisest thing to do, contacting Ezra while in a nest of Imperials, but she felt that she had to. She considered her action some more. Endangering the mission, the last thing she wanted to do, weighed heavily on her mind. Sabine couldn't easily dismiss the worried look; his worry lines cut deeply into his boyish face. The face she cherished, scars and all. Maybe they wouldn't be seeing each other again; that was what he'd been thinking. That had been the saddest she'd ever seen him resonated within her.

The love they felt for each other had grown tremendously, so much so that when the crew had paid Alderaan a short visit, at Ezra's tireless insistence, Sabine had seen for herself that Moreena Krai was a friend. If she thought anything more than that she'd be deluding herself. In fact, Moreena and Ezra were more like sister and brother. The Krai family, happily resettled on their new homeworld, had taken to farming again. Ezra's family-in-Rebellion and the Krais had gotten along famously. Any bad feelings about the planet's safety that had bothered Ezra had faded away.

After Moreena and Ezra had said their goodbyes again, that had been that.

When the _Ghost_ crew had returned from Alderaan, Phoenix Squadron had tasked them with this new assignment. The extraction of defectors from the Empire had taken center stage. He had wanted to go in her place, which wouldn't have made much sense. As had been pointed out to him, the Empire was getting to know Ezra Bridger all too well.

Although, his Jedi skills would have come in handy, especially when it had looked as though her encoded ID wasn't going to get her past security. Her stomach had never dropped so low as butterflies in it had swarmed like maddened Nubian burblebees. She was imagining how Ezra would have handled the situation in her place. A Jedi mind trick was made to order for anything like that.

Thankfully, she'd gotten through; her tactic had worked. She didn't want to think what would have happened if after she'd blown off the light film of lint on the fake credentials card, the thing still failed.

During that ordeal, she had reached out to Ezra. She'd been awed because he'd found a way to respond. All at once, a sense of security and everything would go well had flooded her, and the idea to blow on the card had come to her mind.

She couldn't explain how, or why, what had happened had occurred. She only knew that he'd reached her; Ezra had sent those vibes to calm and advise her through the Force. Not bad, and she wasn't even Force sensitive, not a wit. How glad she was that his ability somehow had overcompensated for what she lacked. Maybe their being married had something to do with how attuned the Force made them to each other. Just a wild guess on her part. She wasn't complaining. It was a nice little gift to have around when they found themselves in tight spots.

This affinity hadn't come overnight, and there were still varying degrees of rough patches to weather now and then. Largely though, their relationship was blossoming into something uniquely marvelous. The more they were together, the stronger their bond grew.

Presently, Sabine was recuperating in the airborne installation's drab dormitory she'd been assigned to. This place, where she and her fellow cadet pilots-in-training were expected to bed down, was depressing. With a capital D for depressing.

Her fingers itched. They pined for paint. If some were available, she would spruce up this boring room with its utter, ugly drabness in a flash. Sighing, she stretched out in her bunk that was about as soft as rock. The Empire wasn't big on pampering their minions, she easily assumed. She was running on adrenaline. Simulations after simulations kept her busy. Since she'd come here, she'd been burdened with an overabundance of demands. Again, she readily assumed that the Empire demanded impeccability from their multi-cultural pilots. Though downtime was granted, it was never for very long. When Instructor Goran, who had already predicted that most of them wouldn't make it, cracked the whip, they were expected to jump into their simulators and be perfect. Along with perfection came the demand that they be mindless drones, devoid of feelings and any compassion.

Speaking of which, if that had been a real TIE-fighter Sabine had flown in actual combat, she'd be dead right now. The so-called '_Ghost_,' in the training simulation would have wiped her out. She had refused to fire, and had been reamed-out for being insubordinate. They hadn't faulted Wedge; they were looking at her sideways now. She'd better not let what she'd done happen again.

The Empire thought nothing of murdering innocents any way they could.

"We're _not_ 'a desperate group of extremists,'" Sabine muttered to the empty room, refuting what Captain Vult Skerris had said. His hard-bitten brainwashing was irksome. Her voice, barely audible, she jabbed, "We're _freedom_ fighters." Then she spat, "_Not_ butchers, like your Empire is."

Her downtime soon to end, Sabine geared up for more grueling training. The other trainees, who shared this dorm, were hardcore. They never questioned, never resisted what they were being ordered to do, no matter how 'off,' or foul, it was. Obviously, none of them wanted to side with the Rebellion. Sabine made sure she never sounded like a sympathizer.

So far, she only knew of three who wanted to make a clean break from Imperialism and its dogmatic mores: Wedge Antilles, Rake Gahree, and Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian. Everybody called him Hobbie so much, his nickname stuck. He wasn't Derek; he was _Hobbie_.

Comlink in hand, she raised it to her mouth. She wouldn't make this long, not forgetting for one moment the very possible risk she was taking. She'd give her soulmate a brief update on her progress. She'd tell him how much she missed him, and they'd be together soon. Ezra, along with the rest of the _Ghost_ crew, meant everything to her like she meant everything to her clan. Handling this solo mission was necessary, but it still felt strange not being with her loyal family. When these types of mission were required, they took them on, but when the _Ghost_ crew fought side-by-side, as a close knit team, the fit felt better. It went without saying that they trusted one another with their lives. That would be so as long as they lived, and none of them had a death wish.

Hesitating only for another moment longer, she made contact.

"Ezra, Ezra," she whispered, her heart beating a mile a minute, "come in." Lowering her voice even lower, she beseeched, "Ezra, are you there?"

Alarming; her hand was shaking. The sound of his voice would be great to hear right now. She was on edge, being surrounded by too much of the enemy. Among his skills was his knack for steadying her nerves. Contrary to popular belief, she did get nervous. She was human, after all. The climate here aboard Skystrike was definitely bad. Especially now, since Governor Pryce and Kallus had arrived.

Rumor had it they had intel on the Academy's would-be defectors.

"Sabine..."

Her heart stopped racing. Reassured, she smiled, it spreading over her beautiful face that showed distinct signs of how much stress was taking its toll. "Ezra. Yes—"

Hearing her voice gave him a thrill. "Are you all right?" He sounded worried, overeager to know, as he combated his feelings. He had never wanted her to go by herself on this mission that might prove her undoing. He'd never see her again; the thought of that made him die inside.

She quickly put his mind at ease. "I'm fine. Never a dull moment around here. If I never put myself into another simulator, it won't be too soon."

"You know the Empire—insane." He softened his tone, cooing, "It's good to hear you."

"Same for me hearing you. I just wanted to…" She clutched the comlink, wishing she could see his face also. "Okay, okay. Now's not the time, nor place for getting…you know." She sighed, calling it what she called it. "Lovey-mushy."

Ezra had started using the phrase too.

"Maybe we should try the mind-link thing again. We almost reached a threshold last time." He relished seeing Sabine in real-time in the center of his mind. "Kanan's coaching has really helped." She wasn't as far along as Ezra was with the phenomenon, but she was coming along well for a 'non-Forcey person.'

Hurriedly, she told him, "If there was more time, sure. But there isn't. I have to report to Captain Skerris and a simulator with my rank-and-squad number on it for the next scheduled training session, soon."

"How's the recruiting going? What have you got?" Ezra asked, anticipating his wife's forthcoming exchange. Little did she realize that he was becoming quite adept at tapping into her head, picking up on her thought patterns. Sometimes he got them right on the mark, other times, he'd be close, or way off. He wasn't telling her about this surprising new aspect of his growing abilities. Not just yet.

"So far, three cadets are onboard."

"Can they be trusted?"

Sabine pouted, jutting out her lower lip.

Now, that was a curve. Never had it crossed her mind that any of them, or even just one, could be Imperial moles. Ezra bringing it up drove home that worrisome possibility. Uncertainty crept alongside her, as she told herself that Wedge had sent the comm. Even so, could this be a trap? She didn't want to think about that, right now. Stubbornly, she supported with fire in her eyes, "Yes. I believe they can be. None of them has done anything to make me think otherwise. They talk long and hard about their dissatisfaction with how this venture has turned out for them personally. They sound genuinely troubled by and disillusioned with the Empire." She paused to steal a breath. "Why? What do _you_ suspect? Does Kanan feel there's something not right too?" she asked, growing agitated. "Who could be a spy? Wedge? Hobbie? Rake?"

Ezra's brow furrowed.

_Who has names like those_, he thought, not saying anything more for a moment. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything about this. But then, wasn't it better to be forewarned to be forearmed instead of having to grapple with a nasty surprise? "No, no. Nothing. I just put it out there. I don't have to tell you about being too careful." Realizing he'd upset her, he tried calming her from long-range.

It worked. Easing her tension became easier for her. Sabine firmly replied, "I'll keep my eyes open, and my ears to the walls. If things don't add up with one, or all of them, you'll be the first to know."

"And you get out of there before you wind up another of the Empire's many prisoners. Or worse. I don't even want to think about the 'or worse.'" He stopped going where he had no place going to, getting negative. Immediately, he sent positive vibes her way. "I love you."

"I like the sound of that." From as far away as he was, he still managed getting a fleeting glimpse of her, lying face up on her bunk, talking to him via comlink. He hated thinking of her in that, what looked like, an exceptionally dreary place.

"I like the sound of your liking that," she said, containing her brief laughter. "Tomorrow, we go live training, in space." _Space_, she thought to herself. Sometimes it seemed blacker than ink. "No more simulators. The TIEs all too real, ready to blast anybody who isn't making the grade. I'll signal with the coordinates when we're in range. I and the newcomers will fly our TIEs straight for the cruiser. Be ready to pick us up."

"You don't have to tell _me_ twice. I'll await your signal, Sabi."

"Ezra, I'd better go. It's not a good idea to stay in comm for too long, and it's possible I'm arousing suspicions because I'm tardy a lot."

"What's a lot?" Ezra quizzed.

"Like since I've gotten here. When I'm late, I get all kinds of weird looks, like my heart isn't really in this training."

"'Cause it's not."

"Yeah, but everything depends on how convincing I am. Captain Skerris is a real hard-nose. All Empire, all the time, all the way. I've got a reputation that's sticking around here for being 'rebellious.'"

He snickered and said, "Woman after my own heart. Be careful; that's an order."

"Yes, sir," Sabine fired back, "you don't have to tell me twice." She switched off, then swiftly chided herself. She hadn't murmured to her husband that she loved him. As she sprang out of the lower bunk, preparing to collect her gear, she whispered anyway, "I love you, Ezra."

On the distant Rebel cruiser, Ezra nodded, his spirits soaring, as Kanan stood behind him, giving him pats on the back. Adoringly, not sure whether she was capable of hearing him or not, the younger Jedi softly purred to her, "I love you too, Sabi, and may the Force stay with you…"

Before she left the dorm, Sabine stood stark still. "Ezra?" she croaked softly to herself.


	31. Chapter 31

"We've got to help Hera," Sabine said, her heart racing. She tried keeping her mind off of how Ezra was faring, but that was very hard to do. They hadn't heard from them for a long while, and the lack of communication upset her. The Imperials they were trying to divert were making things tough for them. Their mission had now turned into one of survival. Sabine only hoped that Hera and Ezra were all right. Meanwhile, Sabine focused her full attention on keeping all of them alive. The stormtroopers were not letting them get away so easily.

While Sabine and the rest of the team were doing all they could to stay alive, Chopper was advancing on two Imperials, hoping to create a diversion of his own. The little droid thought it was hysterical when one of the guards asked the other if Chopper was talking to them, like that was an extreme possibility. They appeared less efficient than the crafty droid in their clanking, dirty suits of armor. Of course he was speaking to them; were they as dumb as they looked? _Good_, the droid thought when the other replied:

"Looks like he's malfunctioning..."

The guards were away from their post, which gave Hera time and opportunity to get past them. Ezra told her he'd cover her. She complied, whisking herself unobtrusively past the engaged guards. Chopper was really acting his part. Like a wary slink-cat she slipped past the preoccupied stormtroopers, but right into the blue-skinned Admiral, their offensive nemesis, and the grouchy commander Slavin in his company. Why had they turned up now, at that precise moment? Talk about incredibly bad timing.

Ezra felt his heart leap into the middle of his throat. Through the Force, he told himself to _relax_.

"Out of the way, servant," Slavin curtly barked. "You're not permitted on these floors. I have told you people to restrict your movements to the kitchen."

Hera was only too glad to make herself scarce. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Thrawn's commanding, "Just a moment," filled the foreboding silence in the chamber as servilely, Hera persisted, trying politely to excuse herself. "Guards, bring her here." No good. Her scheme had failed. As her heart thumped away, she composed herself as best she could. If her nerves betrayed her, she was as good as caught—red-handed with her family's heirloom. At that moment, the Kalikori felt as if it weighed a ton in her trembling hands.

That was the young jedi's signal. As the guards advanced on Hera, Ezra appeared from his hiding place, joining the detail, acting as though he was a higher-ranking stormtrooper. Surely, the one in charge. He came up to Hera, bullied her as he shoved her before Thrawn. If he were going to use a mind trick, he'd have to act fast.

_Act fast_, he told himself, but acting fast wasn't happening. It was as though his brain had frozen, along with an alternative plan of action that would get them out of this mess. If they lived to tell the tale, it would make for a heated discussion around the common area table. Kanan most likely would nitpick, going over with him what he might have done better.

"May I see that? Thrawn asked, with exaggerated facile. Obviously, she'd stolen that piece, he judged, appraising its value. Hera had no choice, but to hand the Kalikori over to him. He faked interest in the culture that had produced the heirloom. "I am a visitor to your world. It occurs to me that it might be beneficial to hear what you have to say about Imperial occupation." He had to be kidding with that last bit, right?

She might have given him an earful, under different circumstances, but the Imperials were the ones with the upper hand, at the moment.

All Hera wanted was to get out of here, which was turning out to be a lot easier said than done.

"I don't think I could be of any help to you," Hera murmured, staring at the Kalikori in Thrawn's hands.

His face, a tinge or so darker than blue milk, could've been the mold for what smirking meant. "No…I disagree." He knew a rebel when he smelled one. To Slavin, he officiously directed, "Bring her to your office for questioning."

As Hera was being marched out, Chopper's photoreceptors were trained on her. He was safely hidden away from their enemies as he was busy calculating what it would take to rescue Hera. Thus far, he was coming up empty. Where was Ezra? Oh, there he was, standing along with the real Imperial guards, but he wasn't doing anything constructive to rescue Hera from the goons. It appeared as though it'd be up to him to save his mistress.

Throwing her into a seat, Slavin relished Hera begging, "Please—I am a poor refugee."

"Captain, do you recognize this?" Thrawn asked, sounding critical with deceptive gentility.

"Yes," the captain responded, "it—it was here…in my office."

Hera was wholly believable when she pleaded, "I thought I could sell it for food." She cringed when she admitted, "My family is starving." The family she now called hers wasn't, but somewhere in the far-flung galaxy, wherever the Empire perpetrated its reign of terror, many families hungered for sustenance. She begged for mercy in the name of those desperate people, wherever they were.

The captain cried, "That's no excuse!" He took pleasure in seeing Hera squirm. "You shall make a valuable example to others of your kind who think to steal from the _Empire_!"

Thrawn stuck his arm out and Slavin placed the heirloom into his outstretched hand. "She is far more valuable than you realize," he huffed, strolling away, but not too far from Hera, who glared up at the back of his large head, then lowered her eyes.

"H-how do you mean?" the captain stammered.

"To defeat an enemy, you must know them. Not simply their battle tactics, but their history," Thrawn asserted. "Their philosophy." He muttered something in addition, which both Hera and Ezra couldn't make out clearly. Then, he switched tack, after he'd studied Hera's family portrait on the wall. "So, I will ask you again,…Captain. Do you know what this is?" Thrawn was the epitome of smug, because he knew what he held in his hands.

Ezra sensed that as he looked at him through the stolen helmet he wore.

The captain, irritated, blurted, "Some primitive, native trinket."

"It's a Kalikori…"

That meant absolutely nothing to the ignorant captain. Aesthetics were unimportant to him. He was a military bootlicker.

Though having tried to keep herself under control, Hera winced, her mouth dropped open, when she heard Thrawn get it, right on the nose.

"A revered Twi'lek heirloom," he continued, as smugly as ever. "Passed from parent to child through generations. Worthless to outsiders. Priceless, to family."

"Yes, well—she stole it," Slavin insisted, grimacing, gritting his teeth.

Thrawn nodded, agreeing, surprisingly. "Yes, but why?"

Hera became like stone, nothing more than a statue where she sat, holding her breath, not daring to move. Her face had grown hot; her hands were cold and clammy. The faces of her beloved crew flashed before her eyes.

"It's all you've ever known, isn't it? You were so young when you survived the Clone War. No wonder you are so quick in spirit to fight as you do." Ambling past where Hera sat, he casually commented, "War is in your blood. I study the art of war to perfect it." He got too close for Hera's comfort, so he could funnel into her ear, "But you…you were forged by it."

The captain squawked, "But, sir, she's just a _peasant_!" A very pretty, feisty one, but a lowly one, nevertheless.

Her temper up, Hera barraged, "It doesn't matter where we come from, Admiral. Our will to be free is what's going to beat you!"

"You—you dare!" The captain was livid now.

"Slavin, please," Thrawn called, "you embarrass me in front of our host."

Astonished, Slavin cried, "Huh? What?"

"May I introduce Hera Syndulla," Thrawn flourished, pandering, half-bowing in genuflection and hinting at the portrait on the wall. "Rebel, and freedom fighter, and military leader." He said those things as though they were the worst of curses. Slavin reeled, and Thrawn fleshed out, "Daughter of your nemesis, Cham Syndulla."

Ezra nearly died in the suit, but sprang into action by reaching for his weapon at his side, only to be blasted first by a quicker-on-the-draw, Thrawn. Hera gasped in horror, fearing the worst. Had she just witnessed the brave teen's death? Thrawn placed his gloved hand on the back of Hera's chair.

Mystified, Slavin inquired, "How did you know?"

"Because Rebels have friends always rushing to the rescue," Thawn flatly replied, as though spitting puke out of his mouth.

After being thrown into a containment room, Hera and Ezra tried consoling each other. To her acute relief, he'd only been stunned, not killed. She would have been inconsolable if he'd been shot dead, and forced to be with his dead body as sadistic punishment.

"An unexpected pleasure to meet you, Captain Hera Syndulla," Thrawn badgered her while she lay on the floor.

"Wish I could say the same, Admiral," Hera spat, rising quickly to her feet, her eyes holding him in derision.

"It is a pity our first encounter might well be our last," he said, his cloying voice was like teacle that was much too sweet. He still held the heirloom like a trophy. "I will keep your Kalikori in a place of honor."

Hissing, Hera bit off, "If I knew you'd take it, I would have smashed it when I had the chance."

Thrawn mocked, "You surprise me. Is your history worth so little to you?"

"My family legacy belongs to us, alone. It is not for some collector's curiosity."

"What did you say?" Slavin vehemently cut in. He so wanted to rip her lekku from her head, tearing them to pieces.

Thrawn raised a hand, waving him off. "Forgive him. I thank you for your hospitality."

And not saying anything further to Hera, he left, Slavin looking after him as Thrawn went. The massive door to the pantry, the Imperials were now using as a holding room, shut, locking Hera and Ezra in the dim room with a single, decoratively painted window. The Admiral was taking the Kalikori for himself. Thrawn nearly lost his cool with Slavin when the captain suggested that the Kalikori be destroyed since it was only a worthless piece of Twi'lek trash. Regretting his rashness, Thrawn made his apologies, reminding the astonished captain that not everyone had appreciation for fine art, as he did. He gave himself a pat on the back for his wonderful discovery, this day.

Thrawn served Thrawn; working for the Empire was merely a means to an end, which was, purely selfish. He could steal what he wished from societies, when on Imperial business. He felt entitled to plunder whatever he judged worthy of grabbing, answering to no one but himself. He had the Kalikori, and now it was his for the keeping.

On the other side of the door that separated Rebels from Imperials, Ezra revived, much to Hera's relief. She shied away from imagining Sabine's reaction, learning that her spouse had lost his life because of her personal mission.

"What did I miss?" he asked, rubbing his throbbing head, which felt as if Banthas had stomped on it. They had no idea that at this exact moment, Captain Slavin was stipulating terms for their release. Cham, in exchange for Hera and Ezra. If his terms weren't met, they'd be terminated. No one could talk Cham out of doing what he felt he had to do. Sabine felt Ezra's vexation and helplessness through their bond, but was relieved that he was still alive, despite their current situation. Getting him back became her own personal mission.

"I'm sorry, Ezra," Hera lamented, sorely regretting that she had gotten the self-sacrificing teen involved. She prided herself on not being a reckless sort. The toll this mission had taken was etched in her face, which suddenly looked older than she was. Ezra had seemed to age as well. "It was selfish of me to go after my Kalikori. I put you and everyone else in danger," she rued. Personal missions sh—"

"But, we wanted to help," Ezra reiterated. "Because it was important to _you_."

His sentiments were sweet, but sweet wasn't cutting it with Hera when she felt this guilty. "We weren't ready for _that_ Admiral. I should have known better."

While she spoke, Ezra had begun crawling over to the door. He heard a familiar droid squawking its head off on the other side of their prison. In the next split second, Chopper crashed his way in; that droid was sure pushy, which was annoying. But, right now Hera and Ezra couldn't have been happier to see the bogarding little tyrant. The droid was a fountain of information.

"My father is actually surrendering?" Hera exclaimed, incredulous.

"To free us," Ezra declared, his voice bursting with admiration for her father's bravery. "Well, they can't make a prisoner exchange, without prisoners. Let's go." He was on his feet, all set to get as far away from this holding tank as he could.

"Not yet. We won't make it out there. They're too many guards." Even as she spoke, she was thinking of a way that would equalize the playing field.

Scratching his head, Ezra agreed with Hera. Thing was though, he hated having to wait around. His Jedi nerves were twitching, and he thought either Sabine, or Kanan, or both at once, even, were urging him to do something. As long as it wouldn't get Hera and him killed, they should go for it.

He was about to suggest another idea when Hera startled him. "We're going to go through with this exchange-but on _my_ terms." Wasting no time, she defined what she meant by her terms. "Chopper, I want you to raid the Imperial armory and get as many explosives as you can."

The little droid rocked on its runners. Blowing anything up, especially Imperial was so much fun. The bigger the blasts, the better he liked it. _Ka-boom-boom-boom_! He waved his hand-like wands in delight before rubbing them together. Then paused. Now, where was their armory? He babbled on, stunned when these words left Ezra's mouth:

"Whoa-you're going to blow up your house?" Why would she recommend doing the unthinkable? She was giving the 'ok' to do what the Empire was do throughout the galaxy. Destroying what the vast sum of populations held dear, heritages and cultures, ways of life. Homeworlds.

Placing a hand on Ezra's shoulder, Hera said with solemn dignity, "My home is my crew, and family."

Chopper agreed. Although he didn't like the idea that Hera's home had to go, she was the boss. Not hesitating, he went into seek and destroy mode. "Roger that. I'm on it." And off he went. Everything depended on him, and the determined droid wasn't about to let _his_ family down. He'd 'die' first. Soon, he was entering the armory and went right to where the Imperial cache of explosives was. _Pay dirt_, he rejoiced, waving his wands in triumphant. Quickly, he gathered what he needed, and set about his task, strategically planting explosives.

Back in the holding room, Slavin paid Hera and Ezra an annoying visit. He drew his blaster on them and said with a condescending smirk, "Time to say goodbye to your father."

The Ghost arrived with Cham as Slavin, Ezra and Hera, as well as a guard, watched the battle-tested ship set down upon the platform. The Twi'lek and the human tingled with anticipation. When the detonations went off, there'd be no time for dilly-dallying.

"Steady, at my command," Slavin, with his hand clamped around Hera's bicep, ordered the stormtrooper in attendance. Cham came into view, and Slavin gloated. "Syndulla, at last we meet…face-to-face. Step forward, alone. And turn yourself over as promised."

Hera's father obeyed, his facial expression listless, anticipating a blaster bolt to his chest. _Never trust the Empire_, rattled around in his brain. His eyes were on Hera, memorizing every facet of her lovely, poignant face. "Not until you release them," he particularized.

"We'll make a simultaneous exchange," Slavin fired back. To his prisoners, he ordered, "Start walking."

In the _Ghost_ cockpit, Sabine had her mind riveted on her husband, beseeching the Force to protect him. She kept thinking over and over: _Ezra, be ready. If you see a chance—take it! Come back to me, alive, and in one piece!_

Cham began walking too, grimacing as his eyes searched his daughter's eyes that never left his.

His assignment completed, Chopper suddenly appeared, rolling into position in the doorway of the soon-to-be wrecked house. Laughing as he'd done his thing, he'd placed explosives anywhere he'd seen fit, as if he were hiding presents. Feeling mighty pleased with himself, as Hera and Ezra went to the _Ghost_, and Cham left the ship behind, Chopper prepared himself, all systems go.

With bravado, he bravely sped past the unsuspecting Slavin and the testy stormtrooper, tooting, _"Ha, ha, ha_, all the way to the Ghost. His neural network was standing by. He was hair-trigger alert, waiting for Hera to give him the word.

"Droid, what're you doing?" Slavin barked.

_You'll see_, Chopper thought, smirking in his own droid-al way, leaving robotic laughter in his wake.

"I am sorry, Father," Hera said with a heavy heart.

Cham reassured her, placing his hand between her neck and the ball of her shoulder. "It's all right, Hera. Even I have been captured before." Yet, never when his daughter was being used as a bargaining chip. He didn't let that fact show on his resolute-looking face that he softened with a tender smile.

Hedging, as she changed her tone to one of apology, Hera said, "Uh…I'm sorry about the house." Swiftly, she cried out to her faithful droid, "Chopper!"

_Here goes the ka-boom_, the cagey droid reveled, hitting the detonator to set off the ground-rocking explosions that caught everyone but him, Hera and Ezra by complete surprise.

From aboard his cruiser, Thrawn drew his own conclusions after hearing the concussive explosions.

Cham, holding his head as his mind reeled, exclaimed, "You were serious!" The family home had been blown apart; fire leapt from diverse corners. The place was a disaster, but…perhaps not beyond refitting once the damage was evaluated. Hera and Ezra helped him to his feet, and the three raced up the _Ghost_'s ramp, leaving a defeated Slavin groveling in the dirt.

"Stop them—stop them," he cried, with blue egg on his face. Oh, the humiliation! He prided himself on always being such the clever one.

The little 'mad bomber' sailed past the sentients, telling them to get moving.

Hera, Cham and Ezra wasted no time doing as the droid commanded.

A surviving stormtrooper and an Imperial walker laid down blaster fire, but their shots never hit their fleeing marks. Kanan was on the retracting ramp, deflecting shots like the valiant warrior he was. He was blind? If that wasn't already known, an observer would never know that to see him in glorious action. The masterful way he deflected the incoming bazooka blast was a testament to Jedi expertise.

He gave Slavin a mock salute and disappeared into the _Ghost_ as it rose higher, victorious.

Sabine, in full control of the starship, came away like a zephyr from Hera's destroyed home under the watchful eyes of Thrawn, who, owing to his quirk of thinking, permitted them to escape. "Hold your fire. They've earned their victory today." To a holograph image of Slavin he airily justified, "Oh, not to worry, Captain. I've found this whole experience to be very enlightening…"

Later that night, after Hera basked in her father's presence, thanked the crew, and assured Kanan she didn't need the Kalikori to remember her mother by, Sabine taught Ezra the true meaning of the word 'enlightening,' when they quickly excused themselves from weary present company, retreated into their bedroom, and…

To be continued…


	32. Chapter 32

Okay...Ezra knew Sabine couldn't wait to put her finishing paint-strokes on the new ship they'd acquired from the last mission. When swiping the craft, he'd had her in mind.

"Stop daydreaming, Ez," she called from the top of the new _Phantom_'s dorsal tip. Bold, brash colors adorned the fin. Sabine glared at him where he stood on the ground. "You're almost dropping me!"

Her warning yanked him from his reverie. He held up his other hand, Force-supporting Sabine as she put the finishing touches on her handiwork. "Sorry, Sabi. Are you almost done?"

"Almost, but not quite. I have a ways to go before our new ship is properly-painted the way I want it."

He'd offered to help her decorate their new acquisition, and with his offer came yet another way in which his use of the Force could be put to use. "We've been doing this for hours."

"So?" she exclaimed pointedly, calling down to him from her invisible perch.

"So-it means I'm hungry. I need a break. You could use one too."

"I don't need a break," she retorted petulantly. "I want to get this part finished before I start on the ship's other side."

"Noooo!" Ezra scowled at her.

"Oh, come on. Stop being a baby."

He, being a baby? Ezra didn't think so, not when he'd done everything she'd asked patiently. Instead of firing off an angry comeback, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he asked evenly, "Do you really think I'm being a baby, Sabine?"

Realizing she might have offended her man, Sabine apologetically replied, "I didn't mean it that way."

"Then, what way?"

Shaking her head, and applying more paint to another section of the fin, Sabine, running her tongue across her upper lip squinted.

"You can't answer me because you know I'm_ not_ acting like a baby. I _never_ have ever since I joined up with you and the crew," Ezra countered, proud of the way he'd answered.

Better she let him have his say. Then she retorted, "Stop jittering. You're messing up my brushstrokes," Sabine complained, but there was no hint of irritation in her voice. The fact was, ever since they'd wed, he'd really come into his own. The maturity he consistently displayed in tough situations always amazed her. Kanan had told everyone how it had been Ezra who'd resolved an alternate, satisfying ending for the Clone War. A shame he hadn't been around when the actual one had raged. Maybe she was the one who needed to learn what it meant to compromise. "How hungry are you?"

"_Very_!" he hooted, redoubling his efforts to keep her aloft and steady. "But...I know you want your work to turn out perfect, so keep going. I promise to keep you up there without one bobble."

Beaming down at him, she said, nodding, "You're right. We need a break. Painting on an empty stomach won't make what I'm trying to create the way I want it." Giving him a wink with a high sign, she requested, "Lower me."

"Yes, ma'am." Slowly and surely, Ezra drew his hands back, while in his mind the imagery of Sabine floating back to the ground like a feather kept him focused.

Standing on her two feet again, Sabine asked, "Well, what do you think of the paint job so far?"

As usual, her creation was expressive, symbolistic and unique. Her use of color and design, inspiring; her style was unrivaled. His sweetheart's hopes, dreams and aspirations were embodied in her work. One day, once the Empire was utterly gone, Sabine's art needed to be put on display, say, like on Coruscant. She deserved to be hailed as one of the most influential artists of their times. _More of an incentive for a Rebel victory_, Ezra thought. _Sabine must be recognized for the great talent she is_.

"Ezra...did you fall asleep?" she razzed, seeing how lost in thought he was. She ruffled his hair with a hand that was splotched and moist with paint, which left a bright magenta trail in his shiny dark locks. Then she ribbed, "Nice. After I get through with the new _Phantom_, it's your turn for some refreshening."

"Sabine, we've talked about this. I'm growing my hair longer. I'm drawing the line about adding colors like _that_ in it."

"Aw, c'mon. Where's your sense of adventure?" she chided, aiming a glistening paintbrush at him, all set to use him as her living canvas.

"Not funny-"

"I promise. You'll thank me for it."

Breaking into a run, Ezra touted, "Only if you can catch me." Seeing that Sabine was game, he took advantage of his Force-given ability and streaked into flight, hearing Sabine yell far behind him:

"I hate when you do that!" She heard haunting laughter echo far ahead of her, and she cried, "Ezra! You can't avoid me forever!"

Loudly, he vowed, "Even if I can't, and as much as I love what you do with paint, you're not putting any in my hair."

"You can't stop me. You know how I am when I'm determined."

Scoffing, Ezra, now perched high above her in an in-take duct alcove said, "I know, but...if I shave my head..."

Sabine tried picturing Ezra bald, and making a face that had him whooping. "Then I'd paint it." She nodded, smiling. "I'd paint your bald head the colors of my hair. Purple and white."

"I'm not shaving my head!"

"I didn't think so," Sabine gloated with a scornful grin. Then smiling coyly, she waved at him.

"You're not coloring my hair either!"

Unknown to them, Hera and Kanan, who were coming to pay the new _Phantom_ a visit to see how far Sabine had gotten with her artistic touches, were listening from around a nearby corner.

"What are they going on about now?" Kanan whispered, straining to hear.

"Ezra says he'll shave his head if Sabine winds up painting his hair," Hera replied in kind. "Didn't we walk in on something like this a couple of days ago?"

"Yeah. It's a continuation," Kanan acknowledged, shaking his head, and wondering when both of them would grow up.

"Those two..." Hera sighed, snaking her arm around the Jedi's waist, squeezing it firmly.

"Yeah. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am...ever since they got married, maturity has gone out the window."

"Oh, I don't know," Hera replied, laughing. "It seems to leveling out."


	33. Chapter 33

Aboard the lightspeeding Phantom, their bed was rocking and rollicking; she was kicking the downy blankets off herself so her legs could beat and thrash more wildly. Her shouts and screams flooded their quarters. Sabine yelled, "Look out! Look out! Don't let go! Ezra-don't let go!" Then she cried out louder than any piercing shriek he'd ever heard in his life. "Th-this can't be-No! No!" Many more terrified screams ripped through their chambers. "Ezra, watch out, watch out! _Ezra_!"

"Sabine-Sabine-Sabine!" He caught her flailing arms, pulling her writhing body to his. "It's all right! You're safe. You're safe. You're dreaming. You're dreaming. It's really bad, but you're not in danger. I'm here-Sabine!" He hugged her tightly, pressing his lips into her sweaty forehead. "Wake up, Sabine. Please wake up," he said in an urgent, yet hushed, soothing voice.

Pouring everything he had into mollifying her, Ezra was relieved, seeing Sabine open her eyes and gasp in relief. She stilled as he resolutely cradled her. Disoriented, then recognizing where she was, she quieted, sinking into his embrace. Her fright subsiding.

Continuing to speak to her gently, he said, "Another really bad one, huh?"

"Y-yes it was. Really bad," Sabine acknowledged, shivering in his strong, protective arms, grateful that they were sheltering her. She had doll eyes when she explained, "You fell into the canyon this time. Gone. You were gone. I couldn't save you!"

He searched her voice, looking worried. His hand found her cheek.

Grateful that Ezra was here, doing all he could to comfort her, Sabine went very still. He was getting so good at helping her bounce back. What was happening with her lately? She, so filled with fear when missions were desperately close calls that her subconscious reenacted these ordeals, torturing her. Her nightmares, ever since the recon mission on Concord Dawn, were getting worse. Sadly, there was little Sabine could do to prevent them. Even her favorite warm herbal nightcap fell short of tranquilizing her. Did she need something stronger?

So often now, once she would fall asleep, these bad dreams took over her subconscious, holding her prisoner. Always in these consuming nightmares, she'd be on the verge of losing Ezra, or actually losing him to Gar Saxon. It was like a looping holograph that wouldn't stop repeating. Just the thought of the bullying, wannabe ruler of Mandalore made her shudder. He, in his blood red and white uniform with matching helmet, sickened her. And to think that delusional man was a member of House Vizsla, as she was. What a disgrace to the heritage Saxon was! Thankfully, she was Clan Wren. Gar Saxon, the Super Commando, a renegade.

Her heartbeat resonated within Ezra, the beating accelerated. He closed his eyes, concentrating on slowing the ragged beats of Sabine's heart down. Ezra thumb-caressed the soft cheek that didn't nestle against his chest and whispered, "I can help you with your bad dreams if you'll let me. Make you not have the ones that are plaguing you."

That would be nice, she thought, but she was fearful too. Ezra had come a long way with the Force, but allowing him to tamper with her mind? She wasn't all that comfortable with that. She trusted him with her life; did that include her mind as well? Sabine hesitated, regretting how she felt, but wary nevertheless. "Help me how?" Mostly, she'd give anything to have the anguish cease.

"I can plant a suggestion. One that will cancel out what you went through with Saxon and his grunts."

"And the Force will suppress the ugly memories, and reinforce the positive outcome instead of how we almost lost each other."

He failed to mention that Chopper had nearly bought it too, but leaving the droid out seemed fitting in this setting. Nodding, Ezra admired Sabine for grasping the basics of what he wanted to do. "So...want to give it a shot?"

She tried to disguise her trepidation with a faint quivering smile. She trusted Ezra, but she couldn't deny she had reservations. What if, although hoping to relieve her trauma, he made it worse? "You won't, uh...make a mista... Maybe Kanan should be in on this?"

"Kanan, why?" Ezra looked hurt. "He taught me how to do it. He's done it with me lots of times, and when he let me try,_ finally_, I didn't have any trouble with the procedure."

Before he could question her on what she was reading into his expression, Sabine insisted, "It's not that I don't trust you. I do! It's just...just..."

"No, Sab, it's okay. I understand. I promise, though, I know what I'm doing," he reassured, taking her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss of each finger. Then he started on the pads of those delectable fingers that could wield a blaster, or bombs not missing a beat.

She knew he meant well, but she thought better of saying that. Instead, she consented, "Okay. I'm in your hands..." Brightly, she tacked on, "May the Force help you get it right."

"Oh, yeah. Always that." Tenderly, he fitted his hands around her head, shut his eyes, hardly breathed, as he wordlessly muttered something Sabine could not understand. Like a soft nudge, the inducement to shut her eyes too pushed her as her breathing synced with Ezra's.

* * *

Early the next morning, she awoke first, giving her time to study Ezra in sweet repose. Those scars of his were melting into his skin, still visible, but more like two slight scratch marks by this time. She'd fallen back to sleep, a dreamless sleep. Not once did a nightmare disrupt her slumber. She snuggled against him, thinking about what Saxon had said about her mother, looking for her. That her mother was one of his allies. Sabine rankled. She refused to believe that her mom was siding with the enemy. Once maybe, but surely not now. The name _Rook Kast_, shivering in Sabine's mind, shrank away.

"_Your own mother stands with me and the Empire now_," Saxon had taunted. Why hadn't he said her name? Was Rook Kast her mother? Who was her father? Who?

"Get out of my head, Gar! Just because she did what she did then, doesn't mean she's hasn't changed her mind!" Sabine croaked, sighing into Ezra's neck as she burrowed deeper into it, in time rousing him.

He stifled a gentle yawn, glimpsing her troubled face. "Morning, Sab, how did you sleep?" he asked. "Didn't what I did help?" Ezra murmured, thinking he'd failed.

"No bad dreams," she tersely told him, the pang of irritability not lost on him.

"But, something's not good. What is it?" he pressed, wrapping his arms around her rigid form.

Her divulgence readily came as she relaxed into him. Her sigh deep, she admitted, "What Saxon said about my mother. I can't believe after all that's happened, she sides with the Empire."

Ezra brushed that off. "So he says. That guy was playing with your mind, Sab. To throw you off balance."

"When I fled the Academy, what I did prompted her to join the Imperials. I'd shamed my family," Sabine confessed, groaning. "That seems so long ago. Saxon said she's searching for me."

"Yeah, I heard him," Ezra belittled, and added, "like I said, he would have said anything to get you to play into his hands."

"What if he's telling the truth? My mother needs to see me. What if she isn't on the Empire's side anymore. Fenn Rau has joined us. If she's forgiven me, maybe she'll be on our side too. I should see her."

Skimming his fingers through her short, silky hair, Ezra obliged, "Then, you should."

"I should?" Sabine parroted as though that was easier said than done. "What if she's Imperial, and she hates me after what I've done and become?"

"That's a lot of 'ifs.' It's up to you, but you ask me, I'm all for you going to her. No matter what, you're still her daughter. She has to love you. I'm guessing she'll be so happy to see you. And I'd love to meet her, Sab, to tell her what a great woman she brought into this galaxy."

"What if she tells me to go straight to Hoth, and you with me, because I married Rebel scum?"

"Then we say, 'Bye,' and never look back," Ezra summed up. "But, she won't say that. I feel it; she loves you unconditionally, Sab. She's your mother. Normal mothers love their kids, no matter what."

"Who says my mom's normal?" Sabine rolled herself atop Ezra, kissing his mouth until he begged for breath and mercy.

"I do, that's _who_." Running his hands along her sides, he said, "You like my ideas then."

"They're aw'right," Sabine teased, homing in to get at his mouth again. "I'd like to see her. I really would. We were close before all the fighting began."

Before she properly zeroed in on his mouth again, Ezra asked, "Where is she?"

His query stole some of her mirth and zeal in addition to the deep scowl robbing her face of so much beauty.

"What?" Ezra asked, annoyance coloring his tone.

"I have no idea where she is. So much time has passed, not knowing what was going on with her. I doubt she's where she was last time I saw her."

In his best 'buck up' tone he assured, "Hey, we'll find her, wherever she is." He met her halfway for the kiss, his lips stretching for hers. "Trust me."

"You know I do," Sabine confirmed, wrapping him up in her abiding love, and arms that aggressively squeezed him with all her might.

"And the Force," Ezra breathed, against her lips.

"Where would we be without it?" Sabine groaned into his mouth, and Ezra duly noted:

"You don't need me to tell you that, 'cause if the Force weren't on our side, we'd be nowhere, as in no longer...breathing."


	34. Chapter 34

"Your game is really off, Goot," Jonner said, full of good nature. If he let her win, she'd know it, so he didn't. Although, since she was acting as strangely as she was today, he wasn't so sure she'd realize.

She hadn't been herself since they'd joined this large band.

Gooti Terez, sat at the game table in the _Ghost_ common room, staring back at him blankly. Her heart wasn't in the game. Jonner had beaten her four out of the five times they'd played, so far. "I'm much better than you are at _dejarik_ and you know it," she told him in a spate of breath. That used to be true; lately, not so much. The Theelin often clipped her words when she spoke. Not all Theelins did, but Gooti did.

"You aren't proving that." Perceptively, the square-jawed, bald human with big eyes, a paler blue than Ezra's, asked, "What's with you?"

"Nothing," she fired back moodily.

Just then, Mart Mattin, their good friend, and leader of Iron Squadron, sauntered into the common room, feeling proud that their new friends had left the _Ghost_ in his charge. His uncle, Jun Sato had requested that the crew join him and his command for an impromptu reconnaissance mission. Iron Squadron had no hard feelings, not feeling left out. Jonner and Mart weren't sure if joining Phoenix would work for them, over time. It was great being with other Rebels, but Mart had his own ideas and plans in the making about combating the common foe. For the most part, Jonner Jin had better piece of mind when he went along with Mart, whom he'd always looked up to.

Gooti wasn't making her wish to be with this main battery of resisters silent. Jonner was right, something was up with her, and admitting what it was, wasn't easy for her. Some things were meant to be kept private, at least until the time was right to tell all. This was the first time anything like this had happened to her. The pull of her heart was strong. Someone had caught her eyes, and that someone was none other than...Ezra. This Theelin was smitten with the rash, brash Jedi-in-training. He'd sent her hormones in a tizzy, and she was tail-spinning even as she sat here with Jonner, trying to concentrate on some silly, old game.

Just thinking about Ezra made her weak in the head.

"I know what's up with her," Mart boldly proclaimed, striding up to his friends. He was munching a handful of tart, freeze-dried goodies he'd discovered in a storage nook in the cockpit. His manner jaunty, he gave each menacing hologame piece scrutiny, then said with an offhanded laugh, "Your love life is showing, Goot." He was all too familiar with unrequited love himself. "The person with the initials EB has Goot all ga-ga."

One might have heard a pin drop in the common room, here on Atollon. The reverberating vibrations would have stopped Rebels going about their business, or relaxing, or entertaining, in their tracks. Droids too. Starships of the Rebellion might have glitched in orbit.

The chalky white cheeks of Gooti's face flamed crimson, a telltale trait she shared with fair-skinned humans. The jig was up, and so was her temper. "Mind your own business," she spluttered when exclaiming, jumping up from her seat at the table, frowning as if she could silence persons with her uncompromising stare. Her meaning clear, Mart needed to keep his big mouth shut.

"What?" Jonner shouted, looking stun. Disbelief imprinted itself on his wide face. His eyes were the size of saucers. He buried what he felt for Gooti deep inside, cross with himself. Why hadn't he ever let her know how he felt about her? He'd merely taken it for granted that their being together had forged an inseparable bond of friendship, and something inexplicably more. Had he ever read her wrong. E.B. It didn't take a genius to figure out who that was. Decisively, Jonner made his next _dejarik_ move, which automatically made Gooti the winner. She was a winner with him, always was, always would be.

"She couldn't be more obvious." Then Mart repeated that again, personalizing his smug statement. "_You_ couldn't be more obvious. Being around him so much. Acting like whatever he says is the best stuff you've ever heard, and telling him that on, and on, and on. Goot, you should see yourself. It's embarrassing."

Ezra...she had 'heat' for Bridger. Jonner winced. Of all the...she'd just met the hotshot. Jonner hung his head like he was the only person who'd been deserted at Tosche Station. He'd known Gooti for as long as he could remember, and that was really a long time, their throwing in together on Mykapo as they had, having grown closer ever since. He'd assumed they were as close as two beings could become without actually meshing.

How had she gotten to this point, having eyes for the skinny guy, who thought he knew so much? Things were so unfair, Jonner grunted to himself, thoroughly peeved.

Quietly, he asked, "Goot, is this true?"

"Yes, it's true," Mart insisted.

"I want to hear it from her," Jonner zinged back.

She looked away from him to glare at Mart. "You didn't have to say anything. My feelings are my business." Before Gooti fled the area, Mart's words stopped her cold, like freezing water sloshing her in the face, drenching her from head to toe.

"You're wasting your time, Gooti-girl," Mart claimed, his tone a marriage of candor and sympathy.

Jonner brightened as his breathing slowed from its rapid escalation. _Why was she wasting her time_, stormed his mind. His own answer wallowed in his mental grasp. Because, _she's too good for that smarty-pants_. 'He probably thinks he's too good for her,' Jonner nearly said, but thought saying something insensitive like that was better left unsaid. Gooti was way too good for Ezra Bridger.

"Like it's any of your business," Gooti complained, making ready to scurry away from the testosterone contingency of Iron Squadron. They were guys, what did they know?

Plenty...

They weren't as clueless as many females of whatever species often conclude.

Breaking it to her as gently as he could, Mart informed, "He's married, Goot."

The other pin had dropped.

"Ma-married," she dribbled out, looking as if a blaster bolt had crashed into her between the eyes. So much made sense now. Despite her overtures, Ezra had never made any advances. He was a gentleman, yet why hadn't he ever said anything about his being wed?

Jonner slapped his hand across his face, making certain he wasn't dreaming. Softly, he muttered, "Who'd say yes to him?"

"Sabine," Mart clarified, with a look of confirmation, which had come straight from the beauty's mouth. He'd been sniffing around her too, and Mrs. Wren-Bridger, being Mrs. Wren-Bridger had made it clear that she was taken. The same way she had had to spell it out for Wedge Antilles when he'd come a callin'. The Mandalorian was feminine magnetism after all. If she had hailed from Coruscant, and fun as long as there was a party was all she craved from life, she might have been the toast of the more popular cantinas and clubs. IF she had been that kind of girl who lived for that sort of meaninglessness.

"Ma-married..." This time there were tears puddling in Gooti's eyes, but not one fell. She was too quick. Before either Jonner or Mart could say another thing, she cut out faster than a speeder.

"If there's any consolation," Mart called after her with understanding eyes trained on her retreating form, "I thought the Mandalorian was up for grabs too. They're kids like us." He faced back around to Jonner, and posed, "Who would've thought they'd be married already?" When he shrugged, he made a crazy face too.

"Too young?" Jonner voiced.

"Way too young," Mart promoted, assuming that Jonner and he saw eye to eye.

_Once she's over this thing...I should tell her how I feel_, Jonner decided. But then, he figured maybe he needed to go comfort Gooti. Now.

"Hey, you," Mart challenged. "Championship-level _dejarik_. One game."

Maybe letting Gooti calm down, swipe tears off her face alone, was a better idea.

"You're on, nerf-herder. I win in less than four moves."

"Less than four? Ha-I got it in two."

"This I've got to see," Jonner said, calling Mart's bluff."

"Prepare to see," he declared, eyeball deep in strategic implementation.

* * *

In the room she was sharing with Hera, Gooti Terez lay on her back, staring up at the instrumentation-paneled ceiling. She'd stopped crying, refusing to think, or feel. All she wanted to do was drift off, float away, to a place where hearts never got broken. After a good while, mentally, she brightened. Suddenly all she could think about was Jonner. Later, when she was able to, she'd have a long talk with him. If she ever ran afoul of this troubling, mysterious thing hailed as love again, she wanted him to talk her out of it.

No one listened to her better than Jonner Jin did.

And she would listen to him too, with all her heart. The way she'd been listening to him for years. For as long as she'd known him, he'd never given her anything but amazing advice. The kind that usually cost him much, and her, nothing, neatly trimmed with sincerity all around the edges. Advice that, when she heeded it, would prove to be the best.

The advice of a loyal, devoted...friend.

_Friend_, Gooti, pondered, just a friend? Or, perhaps...something _more_. Serenity settled over her like a thick blanket and she gave the ceiling a wide, easy grin.

"Something more," she whispered. "And true..."


	35. Chapter 35

Hissy and feeling sorry for himself, and somewhat sore, Ezra sulked. Off by himself, because he wished to be alone, he vented his frustration out loud. Balmy, sticky air wafted over his stormy face. This world, similar to the junkyard world of _Lotho Minor_, minus its huge pools of toxic sludge, and periodic downpours of toxic rain, was likewise a paradise for junk salvagers and scavengers. Legit operations, alongside illegal ones, were established to reclaim anything reusable abounded across this planet's surface. Taking a break from his search-and-recover mission of trying to find discarded moisture vaporators and Dissuader parts, their hollow slugs too, Ezra perused his 'drecky' surroundings.

Dissuader slugs could be filled with borless acid that could eat through armor as well as flesh and bone. _Stormtroopers_, _watch out_!

Sighing heavily, Ezra sat himself down on an outcropping of fatigued meta-carbonate. He thought he was alone, but suddenly heard familiar muttering laced with off-color language. He grinned in spite of his gloomy mood. Sabine did have this habit of talking to herself, and when she did, she was nothing but loveable.

"Hey, over here," he called to her, waving. Gladdened by the sight of her, he cheered, saying her name over and over. In a million years, his winding up with her was one for the holograms. He would warn himself never to take her for granted, but he did, at times. What couple didn't have their ups and down?

"Having any success?" she asked, picking her way to him through aging debris and off scourings. She seemed out of sorts too, but who wouldn't in this tangled mess of rot and ruin that sprawled in all directions?

The things they undertook for the Rebellion and did in the name of freedom tried their patience and strength of commitment. They risked their lives; that was a given. They also put on the line personal comfort and sanity, which fell under the heading of sacrifice too.

Of course, getting much personal satisfaction, and contributing to the greater good of ridding the galaxy of tyranny because of the life they had chosen to lead was its own reward. This detail's description fell someplace between glorious and dismal.

"No," Ezra snapped at her, which earned him an immediate sharp lift of her eyebrow, coupled with a hurt expression blooming on her face too.

Before he could apologize, Sabine, about to reply in kind, softly said instead, "Okay...what's wrong?"

His lower lip hung lower and through a sigh, he replied, "Sorry."

"All right, you're apologizing, but it doesn't explain what's bothering you."

What normally bothered him when a certain someone, who was consummately proud of her bouncy, yellowish-streaked, green lekkus cramped his leadership style? Hera wasn't being fair, back to treating him the way she had when he'd first joined them. What did she think? Disrespecting him the way she was would make him better? Her treatment was making him worse, causing him to harbor resentment, and worse still, souring his outlook on his self-worth.

Making him miserable, if not most of the time, near enough to it.

Grunting, Ezra griped as Sabine lowered herself beside him, "When do you think Hera will start trusting me again?" Like dark clouds sitting over his head, he darkened more so. "What am I doing that's so wrong? I haven't gotten anyone killed. Just about every mission she's had me handle came off just fine. So, what's her problem, _now_? Why won't she see that I'm even more dependable, reliable and capable of leading than before?" As he shrugged, Sabine took up his closest hand, holding it tightly.

Convenient memory disabled his remembering all those times things hadn't gone, "just fine."

Evenly, and with a considerable wealth of understanding, she replied in reflection, "You have her trust."

"_If_ I do, she has a funny way of showing it." Tired, and yearning to get back to the Ghost so he could shower off this grimy film of foul sludge he felt on himself, Ezra looked his wife dead in the eyes. She never shrank from his intense gaze. "What makes you think so?" His sudden look of disappointment hit Sabine full on.

There was something about him she had never picked up on before. When they'd first met, he'd been this brash, smart-talking kid. With all that being in the thick mix of do-or-die circumstances had put them through, clearly, Ezra had an extremely sensitive side. Adversity and hardship had brought an integral part of his true nature to the fore.

She loved him so much for it, forging that bond they shared stronger each day.

"You might feel uncomfortable about what I'm going to say," Sabine carefully prefaced, having since taken his other hand and squeezing it equally hard.

"Tell me. You know you can tell me anything, Sabi. Even if I might not want to hear it, I will, because we're not about keeping things from each other...at least I hope we're not."

She shook her head while getting closer to him, studying his face. Those two thin scars, annoyingly visible, gave her impetus. He wasn't inexperienced, nor a novice when it came to what mattered most. He would understand; she would tell him. Then, hopefully, maybe the knowledge would nurture his insight, add to his wisdom. "You've become like a son to her, Ez. She can't bear losing you. Even the thought of that does freaky things to her. The times we almost have, you have no idea just how strange she gets. She shuts down, closes herself off. She loves you as if she'd given birth to you. I know that sounds weird, but it's true." Reaching for his face to cup a cheek, Sabine said, "It's the truth. She told me so. She's kept it from you, but it's true."

Words failed him. So, that was it. He wasn't an incompetent. Hera saw herself as his step-mother. And a mom of whatever description could never bear the lose of a child. He'd been blind. Stuff he'd had a hard time making sense out of made sense now.

Gradually, Ezra confided, "Wow, Sab. I never imagined she could feel like that for me." He placed his hand atop Sabine's arm and eventually their fingers meshed. "This is amazing."

"Now you get it."

Nodding, he certainly did. "Think I should talk with her? Say what I've never said to her? That I...well...I feel the same way about her, being-"

"Like the mother you had a right to grow up with, but the Empire stole from you." He was the definition of rational when he was like this, Sabine thought. "You two need to talk instead of you acting like she's out to make you look bad every chance she gets."

Ezra, with his throat tightening, felt the sudden onrush of tears sting his eyes which were partially-closed. He squeezed his eyes tighter, but a few tears leaked from them anyway. "Y-yeah," he shakily got out.

They hugged, Ezra burying his face into Sabine's soft, warm neck. Her savory scent and the gentle cadence of her words made him feel better. "It's okay, honey, I know...I know..."

"I love you, Sabi," trickled from him when he was able to speak. He peeked up from her neck, inching to her face, and their lips met.

Her lips lingered at his as she said, "Love you more..."


	36. Chapter 36

"I couldn't do it, Sabine," Ezra confessed, his anguished voice upsetting her.

"What couldn't you do?"

They were outside of the Ghost, doing what Hera had asked of them, troubleshooting. It was tedious, time-consuming work. The ship was holding up fairly well despite all of the hits it had sustained lately. Too many for Hera's liking. The shields really needed a complete overhaul, but getting that done had been put on hold too many times. Mission after mission took top priority.

"Kanan felt it too. I tried planting the suggestion in Thrawn's mind that he shouldn't pick Sumar for the demonstration, to see how quickly that sabotaged speeder bike could be brought up to speed. Choosing Sumar meant death for him." Ezra's unwavering gaze held Sabine's. "I couldn't prevent what happened to Sumar." Sullenly, he grumbled, "I tried to save him. I wasn't powerful enough." What was holding him back? Nagging doubts filled his head. Worry and confusion clogged his mind. Why wasn't he growing stronger, more commanding? Could it be he wasn't tapping into the side of the Force that could make that difference? The side that beckoned to him, calling his name in his dreams, tantalizing him with seductive promises of limitless might. The side he was always being warned about to resist.

"Ezra, blaming yourself isn't what he'd want you to do. At least you _tried_ preventing his untimely death." Sabine sniffed, flipping her head back to stop her hair from interfering with her vision. "Is Kanan giving you a hard time? I already know the answer to that. Of course not! You don't hear him blaming himself. Jedi can do lots of things, but they can't do _everything_."

Heatedly, he bit off, "Trying isn't good enough. Trying couldn't save Sumar! Yeah, I'm growing in the Force, but by now I should be better! Stronger! Be-"

Ezra and his hearing problem, Sabine thought, getting worse every day.

"What?" she cried, slicing his shouted rant in two. "_All-powerful_?" His mood swings had never been like this. Increasingly, she was noticing disturbing trends with him. His selective hearing was one of many of his ailments. "You're scaring me if you think you should be _that_. You'd better not mean that."

The way she'd thrown that at him made Ezra think twice before saying that was exactly what he should be. Was that what he wanted, to become a supreme Jedi? Was there even such a thing? Ezra thrilled. There should be; _he_ should be. A small, often nagging voice in his head would remind him that Kanan had been a Jedi far longer than he. Not once had the older and wiser man ever mentioned that as being his goal. Ezra paused, considering what was behind his always thinking this way. What would it be like, being the mightiest Jedi in the galaxy. Bringing down the Empire would be child's play. Ever since the interaction with Maul, ideas bordering obsession like this consumed him.

_Beware the dark side_, the tender, little voice whispered.

Ezra stared at Sabine, not seeing her.

As if he were back where the grisly scene had taken place, again, he watched an anxious Sumar seated upon the vehicle. The test speeder began accelerating on the spot, until the engine visibly, inexorably heated up. He shouted that something was wrong and desperately tried slowing down, in vain, while Thrawn used a datapad to diabolically increase the speed until poor Sumar was blown to bits.

The unspeakably abominable tableau shocked Ezra to the core.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing. As though outside of his body, he saw himself gawping, speechless, looking on in horror. Kallus, too. Pryce smirked and the apathetic, irritatingly-blue Grand Admiral announced that, going forward, _all_ workers would personally test everything they had built, no exceptions.

"Ez, Ezra!"

"Uh-huh?"

Sabine, still calling his name as she frowned, stopped jiggling him. Looking affectionately perturbed, she asked, "Where did you go?"

"Nowhere good," he replied, shaking his head while sighing. His stare went cold, and his wife shook him some more. "I know, I know. You hate it when I do that, but, Sabine, I can't help it. There's so much I'm missing, and I should know what's going on before it happens. What good is being a Jedi if I can't stop really bad things from even happening? And when they happen, I feel like this. Miserable, worthless, a failure. What am I doing here?"

Sabine just let him talk, and she asked herself internally for the millionth time, _'How can I help_?'

"I'm beginning to think sometimes Chopper is more of a Jedi than I am."

"Chopper is a hardheaded, astromech droid. That's where any similarity between you two ends. You used to think you know everything. That droid knows he does," she chided, linking an arm with his. "Stop beating yourself up, okay? Please. Hopefully, you'll last longer. You're doing great! We all are because we have to. We've got great people behind us, and we're doing what's right. What more of an incentive do you need, sweet-face? Now, c'mon, we've got a lot more ship to cover. You know Hera. She'll triple-check what we say we've done."

Normally, her rousing, spitfire pep talks did the trick, but this time, as he watched her get back to work, he wasn't so sure hearing her spout fight-talk was going to be enough. In fact, it was by and large, all beginning to sound the same. He needed more than pleasing, spirited rhetoric. He needed more, much bigger and better from himself.

Sabine looked away from what she was doing to give him a nod. He smiled back, putting up a front. When she busied herself with what she was doing again, the expression on his face soured.

Thinking how Kallus was Fulcrum brought on even more discouragement. How had he not known that? Well, at least a small consolation was Kallus' giving them some information about the secret new project that they had downloaded design data on. Shaking his head, and making sure he hid his scowling face from Sabine's alert eyes, that were inspecting a loose repulsor flap, Ezra rammed his fist into the Ghost's hull. Glowering, he muttered, "Trust him? Yeah, about as much as I trust a gundark that hasn't eaten in two days. I can't even trust myself. If I'm going to advance, I'll have to further my training on my own."


	37. Chapter 37

Thrashing, Ezra violently tossed and turned in their bed. But, he wasn't in bed with Sabine, who had come clean before they'd retired. She'd only told her husband about snatching the Darksaber, the distinctive lightsaber with its snazzy hilt. Ezra wanted her to tell Kanan too, but she wasn't ready for that. The ancient, black-bladed weapon was something she wanted to hold on to, even though it had been stolen from the Jedi Order by Mandalorians.

While she'd been explaining why she had wanted to keep it, what Maul had said about the Darksaber came to Ezra's mind:

_"Your Mandalorian sweetheart could explain it to you_…"

The intriguing, venerated weapon had been passed down through generations until it had come into the possession of Pre Vizsla, whom Maul had slain. Maul had wielded the Darksaber in his battle with Darth Sidious, a battle wherein he'd been beaten. Sidious, his former Master, had abandoned him.

According to Ezra's subconscious, at this very moment he was standing alongside Maul. Ezra only wore pj bottoms. Bare-chested, and perspiring profusely, he blinked. Fear spiked in him, but he tamped how that felt down. The Force helped him.

The miscreant was talking to him in a very kind, almost to the point of sickening, gentle voice. They weren't in that cave on Maul's misty planet, Dathomir, where those hideous, shapeshifting monsters had terrorized Sabine, Kanan and him, almost to the point of morbidity.

This planet had two suns, blistering giants that made breathing an ordeal. No wonder it was a desert. The all-encompassing heat was sweltering. Rain was a rarity.

Ezra, his lips parched, was sweating himself into a stupor. Water; he needed water, but there was none. The inhospitable terrain swam before his itchy eyes.

Maul kept referring to this forbidding place as he shouted its weird name.

"Okay, all right. This is Tatooine. I've never been here before. What am I doing here now?" Ezra kept looking around himself, half expecting that those ugly phantoms would pop up at any minute. They scared him to death. He wasn't about to stomach their presence again. Irritated, Ezra barked at Maul, "What are we doing here?"

"Why do you think we're here?" he posed, curling his lips in a most unsettling manner.

The phantasmal proposal pestered. It twisted and whispered as it rode upon the arid wind.

_…Turn to the Dark side…turn to the Dark side…turn, turn, turn…_

That made Ezra bristle. Persons who answered questions with another question got on his nerves. That, coupled with the unthinkable, annoying suggestion, made him spat, "You're wasting your time. I'll never join you! I'm not going Dark! I'm never going to be your apprentice! I have the best Master in the galaxy, and his name's Kanan!"

Atop the glistening sandy ridge they stood upon as the wind buffeted them, Maul said, "You have so much to learn, my young apprentice. So much that will expand your awareness in ways you've never dreamed of. Rid you of your shortsighted preconceptions that hold you back." An odd expression crossed his exotic face with its protruding horns. His black and red coloring darkened more so. "My eager apprentice, welcome the Dark Side."

Bristling greatly, Ezra shouted, "Stop calling me that! It's so annoying! Besides, none of what you say is helping." He gulped down a big breath, and stammered, "I don't want what you're offering. I won't help you—I can't! Not now, _not ever_. I'm helping my _friends_. Not you! They're real, and I belong with _them_. You're too dangerous, and I'll never trust you." Ezra noticed how Maul's mouth had dropped wide open. That didn't stop him from ranting on. "_They_ helped me when I needed them, and I'm not abandoning _them_." A fire burned within Ezra, one that flooded him with passionate resolve. For a fleeting moment, clarity set in, dispelling confusion. A profound calmness gripped the teen, who had the sneaking suspicion that he needed to wake up, but couldn't.

Ezra caught Maul when he winced, as though what he'd said hurt Maul deeply. His own Master, a name he would never let himself say, had abandoned him. He was alone, and more often than not now, the relentless loneliness was too much to bear. "I'm your friend too, Ezra. As I told you…we should walk the path together to become _brothers._" Maul mourned how he'd been separated from his two brothers, long ago. He sounded patient when he spoke these words: "What I will teach you will help your friends. We're on the same side, Ezra. Just…let…go…"

That threatening thought made Ezra tremble with unforgiving uneasiness. Everything that Kanan had ever taught him about cleaving to the Light rushed in on him. Through the Force, Ezra visualized Kanan standing at attention with his lightsaber ignited.

The Force scintillated round about Kanan.

The image of him in Ezra's mind's eye strengthen the Padawan tremendously.

All at once, a staid voice that sounded as old as time itself, wafted on the stifling breeze, stirring a curious feeling within Ezra. The sensation was new, and it seized Ezra, binding him tenaciously.

_"…The Dark side is quicker, easier, more seductive. It is your abilities it wants to exploit. If once you start down the dark path, consume you it will_…"

Ezra thought, keeping his ideas to himself, closing his mind off, lest Maul endeavored to counteract his will to keep true to what he knew to be right. 'Kanan is right. Maul is the Dark side's agent. I won't allow myself to be seduced. I won't, I won't. I love my wife…' Then he reached out for Sabine through the Force, determined to establish the link they had through their bond. Beads of sweat popped up over Ezra's forehead. He trembled, as before.

Those shiny drops, and Ezra's pallor, didn't escape Maul's notice. "You're making this harder than it has to be." He latched on to Ezra's upper arms and began shaking him soundly. "You must help me find my enemy! He is here!"

Obi-Wan's mellifluent voice trickled into Ezra's ears once again.

"…_Your eyes can deceive you; don't trust them_…"

Ezra, taking that to heart, stretched out his arm, which felt much heavier than it normally weighed. His hand smacked against Maul's rigid chest. Waves of heat, or maybe it was energy, it was hard to tell because of the brain fog roiling in Ezra's mind, rolled off the deceptive figure, who excelled at hurling mystery like sand in one of Tatooine's infamous sandstorms.

Maul commanded, "The one I seek is speaking to you. I hear him as plainly as I hear your thoughts. Take me to him. Lead the way!"

Ezra's reply was short, but far from sweet: "Go away, Maul! Leave me!" He shrank back from his worrisome instigator, vehemently.

"You're here to do my bidding, boy!" The laughter of the tormentor echoed all around Ezra.

Obi-Wan spoke to him again. "…_You're having a bad dream, nothing more. It's high time you wake up. So…wake up! Ezra Bridger, wake up this instant!_"

Harkening to the far-removed Jedi's ultimatum, Ezra obeyed. The grip that his dream had on him waned. His eyes sprang open with a small start running through his entire partially-nude body. Sabine, sleeping soundly, snoring ever so lightly, against him, slept on, undisturbed. That was so, until Ezra began shaking violently; their bed quaked.

Sabine's sleep-tinged little voice calmed him when she spoke. "Ez…huh? Ezra? Hey? What's the matter?" She sat straight up then, noting how disoriented he appeared. He was shaken, to the core. His face didn't look like his; it was the face of a haunted man.

He shook his head like someone powerless to control his actions, suddenly. It was unbearably cold in their quarters, his teeth began chattering, loudly. When had Hoth showed up? Unable to answer for several moments, Ezra continued shivering and his woebegone demeanor prompted Sabine to yank him into her arms. She blandished him with soothing words, shielded him with her body and two oversized blankets of downy _fantilss_.

She kept it up, speaking gently, somewhat firmly. Finally these last words came slowest of all. "Can you tell me?"

Nodding as slowly as she'd spoken, Ezra replied, "I'll _never_ go to the Dark side, Sab."

"Glad to hear it."

"No, I'm serious," he insisted, wheezing as he promised.

"Am I not taking you seriously?" Sabine cooed. "Sweetheart, you're better than your word. That's not news." Her hand went to his moist forehead and she stroked it with tender, loving care. "You're good, Ez. Kanan wouldn't say this if he didn't mean it. 'Nothing the Dark side has to offer tempts you.'" She kissed his forehead, smiling into his eyes. "Rest. Don't worry about a thing. I'm here. I'll never leave you."

Through the Force, Ezra heard Obi-Wan sussurate:

_"…Nor will I…_"


	38. Chapter 38

Rebels, Rogues, Heroes...

* * *

Ezra couldn't take his eyes off his wife. She was a force of nature, savvy and a miracle to behold. She wasn't Jedi, but as she took out the flying stormtroopers fitted with jetpacks, which he wanted very much, by the way, the love he already felt for her swelled to higher, ever deeper proportions. Even though he repeated to himself many times that she was his, he still couldn't quite believe it. Everything Sabine did defied categorization. He was relieved when the firefight was over, and she was back with him safely, once more.

Praise gushed from him, no stopping it. Had he ever seen her wage war like that before, singlehandedly like a one-woman task force?

"Sabine, how did you learn to fight like that? I mean, I know you're a great warrior, but what you just did was spectacular."

Although this wasn't the first time he was wild about what she was capable of pulling off, she blushed. "Hey, Ez, I'm Mandalorian. All in a day's work. Hera was freaking out behind the controls, so I jumped in because there was no other way for getting the Ghost out of that cavern in one piece."

Ezra knew she was absolutely right about that, but when he first saw her fly off to join the fray, his first impulse had been to shout for her to come back. What she'd been about to do was too dangerous.

Sabine shook her head, reading his thoughts. He'd never stop worrying about her, and likewise, she'd always feel her heart climb into her throat whenever he put himself in the thick of unimaginable peril.

"I worry about you too, you know," she said.

Ezra nodded. "I know. We have no other choice. It's what married people do, especially married people like us, who might die the next time we're in the wrong place, at the wrong time, or our intel is wrong, or we're betrayed."

The words, and the hard truth of that, gave them pause. Why were some people born on a bed of nails, while others on feather pillows? What was the point of a life filled with so much worry and suffering? All at once, the couple felt mutually helpless, always struggling to find good where so much evil existed.

Sabine sighed, wiping a few tears off her cheek. Ezra felt everything she did deeply. "It won't always be like this," Ezra said in a choked voice.

His wife glanced at him, not saying a thing for several moments. As she walked up to him, throwing her arms around his neck, she cuddled close. "We live what we know, and what we know is that we have to make a difference in this growing Rebellion. And it is growing, Ez. Day by day it grows stronger, more resourceful. Winning, because we must, leads us as the Force guides us."

"Do you really think we're making a difference, Sab?" he murmured, holding her snugly in his arms.

She held Ezra tighter; willing what she knew was true into him.

The knowing voice came from behind them. It reached them like water lapping on a shore. The couple eased around to see Kanan leaning against the wall.

"Sorry to eavesdrop," he softly apologized. "We, and everyone who lives, breathes and believes in freedom are making all the difference in the galaxy." He looked back and forth between the two of them. They were so young, and the love they felt for each other clung to them like an aura. "I ask just one thing of you both, and then I'll disappear, I promise."

"What's-" they said in unison, cut off by a smiling Kanan.

"It's easier said than done, but I'll ask it anyway. Stop worrying so much. Enjoy what you have now. Don't allow yourselves to get all caught up in the uncertainties of what tomorrow may bring. Life's too short, and for us it has the distinct possibility of being even shorter."

His young listeners soaked his advice up like sponges, which he plainly saw.

Gently, he tacked on, "Just try. As I said, easier said than done, but try as hard as you can to put worry, fear, doubt out of your minds. Embrace the present and all it offers. Has my being blind stopped me from continuing the fight?"

The answer was obvious, of course.

They studied the visor obscuring Spectre One's sightless eyes, letting his words sink in. They nodded in unison, promising the wise, meditative, protective Jedi master that they'd heed his sage advice. Ezra knew better than to tell him that they'd try, because just trying didn't cut it.

_Do, or do not_ seemed to float soundlessly in the air.

Once Kanan had left them by themselves, Ezra leaned down and kissed Sabine's forehead. "We'll do what he says because, deep down, we both know it will work."

Against his lips pressed into her forehead, Sabine nodded.

And then Ezra quipped, "And I still want a jetpack."

"If you're good, and promise not to kid around so much when I'm painting, I just might..._find_ one for you on our next Imperial supply raid," Sabine said, grinning.

"I'll help you swipe as many as we can get our hands on," Ezra agreed.

"And I'll have your back."

"You know I've got yours," Ezra told her, wrapping her up in his arms even tighter this time, twirling strands of her white purple ombre hair around his fingers.

Oaths, blood, family, bound up in the will of the Force...sang like a hymn in their heads.


	39. Chapter 39

In earnest, Ezra shut his eyes, trying to blot out the sound of everything distracting. In the center of his mind, vivid images and pleasing nuances of Sabine filled it. When he opened his eyes, he stared up at what he could see of the stars. He could make out several of the brighter ones. He concentrated on those that were dimmer. He wanted to see if increased concentration might heighten their brightness.

Yet another of his mentor's broadening-awareness exercises.

Suddenly then, something akin to an eruption, the presentiment of Sabine getting burned, flared, seizing his receptive mind. Shaking his head, as though trying to dismantle cobwebs, he slammed his eyes shut. He felt her pain, embraced it, tried to soothe her hurt. The injury had happened over a day ago. That had been the day she'd tongue-lashed Kanan with the vehemence of a Wampa devouring prey.

Ezra pulled himself up from the sand, oversewn by somber shadows, that was still warm from the day's scorching sun. Questions burned him from within. Questions he wished he had answers for nagging him to distraction.

What more could he teach her?

Did Sabine even want him teaching her anything?

She caught on quickly, but was innate ability enough? She wasn't a Force-user by any stretch of the usage. Granted, the vambraces gave her some leverage, but still…

Suddenly, without warning, the spirited voice of his beloved startled him.

"What are you thinking about?" Sabine asked with her head listing to one side. She walked up to Ezra and rested her head against his chest. The contact calmed him. She couldn't sleep, and upon discovering that she was all alone in their bed, she hadn't been able to lie there, fidgeting in the dark, wondering where he was. Since her Darksaber training had begun, she hadn't been the easiest person to live with; she'd be the first to acknowledge that. She feared her shrewish, sour behavior had turned her into someone Ezra chose not to be around.

As she kept telling herself.

She began tracing lazy circles over his heart, waiting for him to answer. Willing him to reply, hoping against hope that her attitude and actions of late hadn't driven a wedge between them, she began, "I know…I know…I haven't been the nicest person lately. I've said things I really didn't mean, and…the things I finally had to admit rushed out of me like torrents. The Empire wants to destroy worlds. And they have…mine."

Ezra sighed against her heavily, his lips finding the crown of her head, kissing it. "I've been thinking about my family."

Sabine clicked her tongue. "Oh…" The question hovered on her tongue, then leapt from it. "The one you lost? Or, this one that's adopted you?"

"This one, _and you and me_." He got very quiet and so still, Sabine got more than a little concern, surmising that he'd gone deep inside himself, much further away from her than he ever had before.

Meditative, something a Jedi draws insight from.

"Ezra…?"

The silence was deafening as the brightly shining moon high above blanketed the silhouetted couple in silvery, gossamer moonlight. A gentle breeze, coming faintly from the south, ruffled Sabine's two-toned locks, which Ezra frivolously fingered.

"Sabine, I know what you're thinking."

"It's getting that easy to do now."

Ezra said apologetically, "I didn't mean it like that."

She nodded, not doubting him for a moment. With that last practice battle she'd engaged in with Kanan, she had felt Ezra lending his abilities to the little raw talent she had. It had almost been as though he'd fought alongside her, guiding her hand, willing her to succeed as well as confessing what she'd held back, even from him, all this time.

The painful truth that cut deeper than any two-edged vibroblade, giving no quarter.

Her family had disowned her all because she loved them more than she loved herself. She had thought that by putting their interests ahead of herself, she could've saved them. She hadn't considered how the Empire had poisoned their minds, turning them against her. Could she make them see that by their having put faith in the Empire, they had been used as pawns and cruelly tricked?

She said, "I'll follow you too, Ezra…anywhere. Anywhere you say, not just because I love you, and you're my husband. Because I know as sure as we're here together like this, no matter what, you'll always have my back."

Quiet no longer, he was impelled to blurt, "Like you'll always have mine."

Sabine brushed her lips against his. "I love you so, so much, Ezra. I've never known such unquestioning devotion."

"Sabine, I…I…"

"What, Ez?"

"I…" He took a terribly long deep breath. "When you had the stick, thinking that you still needed to practice with it, because you thought you still weren't ready to train with the Darksaber…the way you held that old stick, looking the way you did with it in your hands that were, I _saw them_, shaking a little. I…it was all I could do not to rush to you, with tears in my eyes, and take you in my arms, and have you promise me…" His voice choked with emotion, Ezra buried his face in Sabine's glossy hair. His arms around her were like a vise.

Softly, she mumbled, "You wanted me to promise you what, Ez?"

"That we'd always be strong—together! You and me, unbeatable, unstoppable, because that's what our love makes us." The intensity of the feeling he'd forced into his words made his head, along with Sabine's, spin. In a voice softer than he'd ever spoken, he asked, "Sabi, seeing you like that…I fell in love with you all over again. I know how I can be…just, don't…ever give up on me…" With bated breath, and trying not to sound as pathetic and desperate as he imagined he would, he implored, "Always be my family, Sabi. Never feel I'm not worth anything to you."

The gentle breeze picked up, turning a tad cooler against the skin of their faces. Sabine, with tears brimming in her eyes, dug her hands into Ezra's sides. "You and me; it's guaranteed. Ez, I'll always mean that."

She unclipped the Darksaber from her belt, giving him a knowing look.

"Let's go," she commanded, all too eager to ignite the enigmatic blade, as though it called to her that there wasn't a moment to waste.

"Right now?" His voice rose an octave. Somehow, he'd hoped all of this had been leading up to a spectacular erotic romp in the privacy of their artistically-embellished quarters.

Nodding, with glints of 'first things first' in her no-nonsense eyes, Sabine insisted, "I need all the practice I can get if I'm gonna convince anybody else, other than you and Fenn Rau that I'm worth following."


	40. Chapter 40

Sabine jolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. Her tiny apartment was completely still and pitch black. The heating unit clanked like loose credits above her head, while down below, in the forest, thick-furred creatures pierced the night with mournful howls.

Her mother and brother...they had ridiculed her. Taunted that she'd done an incredibly stupid thing. Had brought more shame to Clan Wren. Her marriage to 'that child,' was impossible. How could she have said yes to him, given herself to a Jedi Padawan? More disgrace to add to her heavy toll.

The weight on her chest was crushing her.

It happened often when she got too close to her visions, allowed them to take too much of her waking life. The dreams became too vivid, _too bright, _like staring into a photon flash and seeing its blue ghost in front of one's eyes long after the light has gone out.

It felt as though she was carrying two people inside herself. _Two-spirited_, she remembered Kanan had once said. She wondered if Ezra was going through the same thing? She saw so much of his pain.

Shaking, Sabine reached out for the darksaber. There was no hope of sleeping now as she shook her head. Shaking it didn't clear it. Before her eyes, she still saw her husband's body floating facedown in some sort of pool. Photon flash.

The worst of Ezra's memories she'd seen so far was this one: the aftermath of his parents' death. It wasn't just their bodies, limp and lifeless. It wasn't just the lights painting the outside of what had once been their home painting its outside blood-red. It wasn't just the outcry of the neighbors, crowding around, glaring in horror, exchanging whispers.

No-it was the look Ezra imagined on their faces. His mother and father...beyond disappointed, beyond hope. He'd lost them, and himself..._that day_.

This wasn't the first time Sabine had dreamed that memory. It played on repeat nearly every night now. After the first time she'd dreamed it, the other dreams took a sharp turn in a new direction. In these new memories, Ezra, already a lost, troubled teen would give himself up to anything and everything that could destroy him. Whereas he'd been circling the drain before, now he dove into it head first. It started with the day his folks had died and just got worse from there.

In one of those sad dreams, Sabine had been forced to witness the night he'd been kicked out of the place he'd been allowed to stay. He was drunk and high; the memory of the dream was spotty. Like a tape that had been damaged with pieces warped and missing. But, there were glimpse, sharp and clear. A friend, a gap-toothed boy about his age, crying and shouting. Another friend, a girl with long light red hair, screaming his name. A fistfight started. Blood was in his mouth. Drunken punches met with his opponent's hard fists. And Ezra sleeping facedown in a dark, dusty street, womp rats snuggling up to him.

In the morning, doors locked, the little he had stuffed into garbage bags. His young face swollen and bruised as he stumbled to collect his pitiful possessions. Just like that. Discarded. The pain went away, scabbed over by rage, and he picked at that scab constantly.

Once, her mother had shaken her awake.

"You were crying in your sleep," Ursa said, concerned. "Are you all right?"

Sabine had just nodded. She could never tell her mother about these fractured visions. Visions inspired by her separation from Ezra. The unyielding bond they shared. Ursa would never understand. How could she? She judged Ezra unworthy of her daughter. How plain she'd made that. Tristan shared that unfair opinion.

Seeing her husband in so much pain was indescribably hard. She was more drawn to him than ever before. The true Ezra, buried deep, so deep, wasn't just in danger of dying by some malicious, unknown hand, he was dying a little bit more every day, without her...

His parents were gone, now, so was she.

What were these dreams telling her?

_Follow them_...a voice, echoing within her bedroom, seemed to say.

Sabine shut her eyes, and felt Ezra's heart racing as he took her hand in his.

"I need you, Sabi. Come back to me," his haunting voice pleaded. "_Please_, come back."

Sabine felt every ounce of his desperation, anxiety and desire...right down to...wow, so that's what an erection felt like.

It happened as soon as their lips touched, right here in this room! He was with her, needy, but masterful at the same time. Sabine's heart raced too, and in the throes of passion, she cried out, sobbing:

"Ezra, Ezra." Panting, she cried, "Ezra!"

And, just like that, she was heavy with a feeling like she was full, satiated, content.

"Sabine?"

She jumped, gasping. Her sensations nearly suffocating her.

"I'm okay, Mother."

Ursa eyed her suspiciously. Her face lined with concern. "Tell me what's going on," she demanded.

"Nightmare," Sabine replied tersely, her cheeks flushed.

"Your nightmares sound very..."

Not allowing her to finish, Sabine blurted, "I can't help dreaming about my husband, Mother."

"It sounds that way," Ursa acknowledged, a deep frown darkening her face. "You'll never forget about him that way." Her intonation was a slap in the face.

"Like I'm supposed to," Sabine mumbled.

"Yes. You must," Ursa commanded, rising from her daughter's bed and leaving not saying another word. She wasn't going to tell Ursa that her dreams weren't mere dreams. They were lifelines to the man she'd bonded with. Nothing about what she had with Ezra her mother would say was normal, but too bad.

Sabine shook her head, and a deepening smile settled on her face.

"Ezra, I'll be with you soon. I promise you."

His voice, sounding nearer than it had sounded before, stole over her. "And I promise you, I'm waiting, no matter how long it takes..."

And Sabine, whispering her father's name, bowed her head, seeing him in her mind's eye, leading people as only he could.


	41. Chapter 41

"You heard what Kenobi said," Chopper reminded Ezra, who wasn't moving forward.

As he had kept telling the droid throughout this entire misadventure. No, not now. Ezra was too caught up in what promised to be a heavy battle. He and Chopper were perhaps about forty feet from the two people who were opposing each other. Preparing to square off in a fight to the finish.

"Come on! Let's go!" the droid insisted, making quite a racket.

"Pipe down, Chop!" Ezra fired back. "I've got to see this."

"That's your problem," Chopper complained. "You don't listen, and when you do, it's only to _yourself_."

"Don't tell me you don't want to see this," Ezra goaded. His eyes were trained on the fabled Jedi master. He wondered who'd make the first move. Kenobi, or Maul. Ezra wasn't aware of his not having taken a breath for several minutes. When his lungs writhed within him, crying out for air, he gasped.

"We didn't wander in the desert just to miss out on this," he upheld.

Chopper threw both of his wands up, sorely disgruntled with the hardheaded human.

"Okay, suit yourself. Don't say anything if the wizened Jedi Master loses and Maul descends upon you and carries you off like he's wanted to ever since he's known you existed."

"Stop being so negative, Chop-" Ezra paused, listening for what he thought he'd heard whispering upon the breeze. "Huh? Wha-?" Incredulous, he shook his head and her name tumbled from his mouth.

"Sa-Sabine?" Beside himself with amazement, he stared at the two figures now battling each other. "Sabine! You'll never guess where I am, and what's happening here!"

"I don't have to guess," the disembodied voice challenged. "You're on Tatooine. Where you shouldn't be...watching Master Obi-Wan Kenobi about to defeat Maul."

Ezra squeaked as he saw her prediction fulfilled right before his eyes. Astounded, he gasped, "H-how did _you_ know?"

"Oh, Ez, don't you know by _now_? I saw it through the Force, which links you to me, and ourselves to all surviving Jedi." Her voice was growing fainter as she advised, "Now, go home...to Hera, Kanan, who won't forgive himself if you don't make it back safe and sound, Zeb and Rex. I won't forgive you either. I'm doing what I have to do here on Mandalore so we can be together!"

"Sabine, Master Kenobi is coming towards me."

"Probably to remind you, again, that your family's waiting for you," Sabine's voice told him; its inflection firm, unimpeachable.

"You're probably right," Ezra said.

"Of course I am. Now, get home. I'll see you soon. I promise." Her voice was fading.

"I'm on my way. Can't wait to see you, Sab. _Love you_," Ezra professed, adrenaline coursing through his body like violent waters of a raging river.

"I thought I'd told you to be on your way, young Padawan."

Hemming and hawing, Ezra replied, "Y-yes, Master. I just...I just wanted to see you defeat Maul for myself."

"And did you see what you wished to see, young one?" Kenobi gently put to the impassioned, highly-impressionable youth.

"Maul's gone. You defeated him, Master. You are...are...unstoppable!" Ezra gushed, truly awed and star-struck.

The deathblow that Kenobi had delivered to Maul still fresh in the young man's mind.

"Your eyes can deceive you," Obi-Wan admonished. "As I'm sure Kanan Jarrus has repeated to you many times." Though there were twinkles in Kenobi's sage eyes, there gleams were muted. Eyes that has seen so much, for so long a time, bespoke of wisdom that could never be learned from any holocron.

"Yes, Master. He has..." Then, Ezra was forced to admit, "I have a problem with listening as hard as I should."

"Ah...many have that affliction." Words from another master, diminutive, long-eared and green flooded Obi-Wan's mind. "Mind what you learn. Save you it can."

When Ezra was about to reply, a windstorm precipitously blew up, obscuring the Jedi's form. When the wind died down, Kenobi was gone.

"Where did he go?" Chopper demanded.

"Beats me. C'mon. We'd better find our way to..." Like Ezra really knew where they were supposed to head. It was frustrating. This twin moon world was as bleak and barren as worlds came.

Another voice...this time, Kenobi's fluttered upon the wind: "Take Maul's shuttle. It's Mandalorian. You can fly it? Can't you?"

Mesmerized, Ezra answered, sounding like he was on auto-pilot. "Yes, Master. I can. I know how. I had the greatest teacher."

Obi-Wan to whom he referred, but kept that bit of knowledge to himself. "Very well. Now, go!"

Obeying, Ezra found Maul's former ship, underneath a ridge that jutted out into the Jundland Wastes. If Ezra never saw Tatooine again, he wouldn't gripe about it. He climbed into the Mandalorian vehicle along with Chopper. Together, still astounded by the signs and wonders they'd seen, they set off for Atollon.

Watching the ship rise higher and higher, Obi-Wan followed it with his eyes until it was lost to the stars high above. He set off on his Dewback, journeying to a place, a certain moisture farm he'd visited dozens of times before, making sure his charge was safe.

Hearing Aunt Beru's voice call Luke's name, Kenobi smiled.


	42. Chapter 42

Sabine deliberated for a few moments, torn. She had said she was going back to help her clan, but being with Ezra again made that decision that much tougher. She'd missed him more than she could adequately express. She'd head back to her clan, but maybe not as soon as she'd first indicated. A few days couldn't make so big a difference, could it? It wasn't as if she was going to stay away forever from the fight. Not with so much at stake. But the look in Ezra's eyes had made her sigh and take stock of what was important right now. Especially after what Ursa had told her dear husband.

Yes, her mother had misjudged Ezra. Sabine had tried to convince Ursa of his worth, but as the saying held true: Actions spoke louder than words. He was a Jedi apprentice and a Lieutenant Commander, certainly significant and praiseworthy commissions.

Ezra had proven himself in her mother's eyes, and now Ursa saw that the young Jedi was the best possible man for her strong-willed daughter. This, coming from a woman who had wanted to have their marriage annulled. How short-sighted and rash that opinion had been.

Sabine could see how badly Ezra had missed her. He'd tried not letting his feelings seep through to the surface, but he wasn't that good of a pretender.

Neither was she, sitting in the Ghost's cockpit, watching the Rebels scrambling, trying to put themselves back together after such a major score for the Empire. Who would've thought? They'd managed to pull off a major coup. The only thing the Rebellion could do was to lick their wounds, in a manner of speaking, and regroup. Just as Sabine was going over how the shield she'd devised could be improved for future assaults, Hera came storming into the cockpit.

"Kanan Jarrus will be the death of me!"

Sabine gave her an open-face stare, not exactly knowing what to say, except, "Are you sure about that, Captain?"

Hera threw that look back in her face. "Positive!" She scoffed.

"Okay...what's he done now?" Sabine caught Hera's roll of her eyes and smiled. "That bad, huh?" She sucked in a deep breath.

"He thinks it wouldn't be a bad idea if we take some time away from the Reorganization and go back to Atollon." The way Hera had said that made it sound as if Kanan had every intention of committing suicide.

Sabine raked her fingers through her purple ombre hair and tried soothing, "Knowing Kanan, he must have a reason. So...what is it?"

"There's this creature there, the name Kanan says is Bendu. Anyway...this 'thing' helped us escape being captured and killed by Thrawn and the Death Troopers. Kanan says he senses something he can't explain... He fears...won't rest easy until he knows if this Bendu still lives." Hera hung her head, a wave of gratitude and admiration washed over her. "We owe that being our lives, even though it seemed as if he was trying to wipe us out too."

"Just Kanan plans on going to check this out?" Sabine asked, her eyes wide and knowing. She had a solid suspicion Kanan going solo was not the plan.

"I gather Ezra didn't tell you, then," Hera said.

"Nope. Hasn't said a word." Of course, since their reunion, they'd spent most of their time together getting reacquainted connubially speaking. Sabine grinned impishly. "He's used his mouth a lot though. On mine."

His kisses would hit like diving into a freezing cold pool, brilliant flashes of light melded with pain and longing. Leaving her gasping for more.

Hera was sure she didn't want to know, not even a pinch of their intimate moments. TMI, no matter what universe one was from.

"Please-spare me. What you two do in private is none of my business."

"Yeah. Got it. So...when are they making the reconnaissance?" Sabine asked.

Catching the tail end of that question, Kanan popped his head in and replied, "A-s-a-p. The ship-"

"Which ship?" Hera asked sharply, a thin furrow in her brow prominent.

"The Kom'rk-class," was Kanan's crisp response. "Ezra's firing it up. We're about to scurry."

"We should all go," Sabine insisted, picturing her husband's serious face spot-checking the Nightbrother's delicate console.

Looking worn-out and exhausted, Hera shook her head. "I pass. There are scads of details to work out with this Reconstruction. My input is mandatory. Besides, I'm not in any hurry to return to Atollon any time soon."

Sabine nodded. "Sure. That's understandable. Then it'll just be me." Her eyes shot to Kanan. "Any objection?"

Kanan threw his hands up in exasperation. "The more the merrier, Sabine. Ezra isn't the only one who's missed you. I know you're doing what you have to do for you and yours, but it's been too long that you've been along for the ride. So, welcome aboard!"

Bidding Hera, who'd smiled at their retreating backs for a long time after they'd departed the Ghost, goodbye, Kanan and Ezra boarded the Nightbrother.

"Look who's volunteered for this party?" Kanan called to Ezra.

Hearing them approach, he swung himself away from the console.

Seeing Sabine, he jumped up from the flight seat and waited for her to rush into his arms. "I thought you were heading back right away."

"I changed my mind. I've missed these old times," she said. "Ursa told me she understood, but reminded me to return as soon as possible. Our fight is far from over."

Ezra squeezed her tighter. "I've missed fighting alongside you, Sab. Since you came to help us. It's only fair I return to Krownest with you. I'm sure it would get me in even better with your mother." He felt her shiver even more in his arms. He nuzzled her soft, warm neck with the tip of his nose. "The way we took out that _Interdictor_ is something I won't soon forget."

"Me neither. Yeah, coming back with me will put you on Ursa's best side." She laughed.

"But that's not the most important reason. _You_ are," Ezra said, impassioned. "I'm never being without you again!"

"Okay, you two, one mission at a time. Let's get this one underway," Kanan prompted, his heart pounding, reliving the life and death experiences on Atollon.

Ezra retook his seat, with Kanan alongside him. Sabine sat in the flexi-form jump seat directly behind her husband. She sat back, relaxing, inhaling air being recycled by an advanced filtration system. Her heart leapt as, effortlessly, the Nightbrother rose higher and higher until it was just a speck in the azure midday sky. Sabine leaned forward, placing the palm of her hand firmly against Ezra's back.

"Is there anything you can't fly?"

Ezra chuckled. "We'll find that out, won't we."

Kanan sensed Hera watched as she focused on the ship's graceful ascent. He felt her relief, knowing that he wasn't making this visit to his so-called friend, more so just a sketchy acquaintance, at best, by himself.

Hera laughed, and sounding cocky, said, "When you see this 'buddy' of yours, Kanan, tell him Hera says, 'hi.' Oh, and thank him too for all those lightning bolts he threw that narrowly missed us."

"If he had really wanted to strike us down, he would've," Kanan assured.

"Tell him," Hera insisted.

"Yes, ma'am. But...knowing him, he already knows. Provided he's still alive."

"Oh, he's alive, Kanan," Ezra said confidently.

"What makes you so sure?" the Jedi challenged.

"It's the very good feeling I have that he wants to see you again...and soon."

"The sooner the better," Kanan settled, with his eyes scouring the atmosphere that thinned swiftly the higher they rose.


End file.
